


The Fire Within

by DramioneInLove



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Capitol Life, Character Death, District 13, F/M, Forced Prostitution, Graphic Torture, Happy Ending, Katniss/Gale Is Just For Show, Katniss/Peeta - Freeform, Maybe Not For Everyone, More characters to come, Other Characters - Freeform, The Revolution, Torture, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-08-26 13:16:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 37,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16682320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DramioneInLove/pseuds/DramioneInLove
Summary: Four years after the 74th Hunger Games, Katniss and Peeta are forced to work for the Capitol in Victory Hall- a high-end brothel catering to the elite. Even if the Girl on Fire doesn't burn any longer, the embers are still there, and fire could very well catch in the most dangerous place in Panem- right under President Snow's nose...





	1. Victory Hall

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This is my new fic. It's a Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark fanfiction, based in the Hunger Games verse. Nothing exotic.  
> I don't usually input warnings before chapters, so off the top of my head, this is a general warning for : forced prostitution, character death, torture, lemons, and lots and lots of swearing. As usual, nothing belongs to me. If anything did, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction, I'd be lounging next to my pool in my huge mansion while my butler, Alfred, brings me drinks.  
> The events in this fic take place four years after the 74th Hunger Games. In this fic, attractive Victors are prostituted for the Capitol's benefit (as is Finnick Odair in the books). The Quarter Quell didn't include the old Victors having to face off in the arena again. Instead, after the Victory Tour, Katniss and Peeta were sent to work in Snow's brothel where they've spent the past four years. The events during the first book/film are identic in this story, save for the part where, in the book, Peeta loses his leg in the arena- on that account it follows the film storyline.

***.*.*.*.*.***

 

The strange thing with the Capitol was that it always seemed to be _shining_ , no matter what the time of day. After the sun fell in the distance, over the mountains protecting the sprawling megapolis, it was to be expected, with the sharp lights and the gigantic televised ads floating over the buildings, but it was true in daylight, as well- on sunny days, the natural light would glint off golden rooftops, and even when it rained, it was as though the lights were turned up extra strong.

There was never peace of eye, of ear, or of mind in the Capitol. And she _hated_ it.

She always had. Even when, some four years ago, she'd first pulled into the city through the tunnels, onboard a train. She remembered Peeta's delight and surprise then- and her disgust.

She doubted Peeta was delighted and surprised to live here _now_. He couldn't be. Not that she would know, really. She hadn't spoken to him in almost four years, despite him living three doors down from hers. She'd see him, of course, every day, almost- but she didn't say a word.

She didn't speak to anyone, really. She'd never been a talker. But in four years, she'd almost stopped entirely. She didn't want to speak to anyone- and although they'd tried to engage her in the beginning, they'd quickly given up. Even Peeta's beautiful blue eyes had stopped following her as she left a room. Almost as though she didn't exist any longer, and although it was her fault and she couldn't blame him for shutting her out, she sometimes felt her heart pulse painfully in her chest, wishing for company.

She wanted Primrose. She wanted Gale. Hell, if it came down to that, she even wanted her mother. She didn't want _these_ people, though- these people who were so similar to her, who went through everything she went through. These people who _knew_. She'd see them sometimes, sitting on the sofas in the District Room, quietly talking, sometimes shedding tears or patching up new, embarrassing wounds. They _were_ her, they were like her shadow- and somehow she couldn't bring herself to speak to them, to interact with them beyond a few phrases per week. Looking at them reminded her of herself, and that was something she didn't want.

They reminded her of what she'd become.

She hadn't known, when she'd taken sweet Prim's place in the Reaping. She hadn't known, as they prepped her for the 74th Hunger Games. She hadn't known, as she'd been launched into the Arena to fight to the death. She hadn't known, when she and Peeta had become double Victors of that game- or else she would have swallowed that handful of berries straight away.

She'd learned since. There were no winners to the Games, only survivors, and even after they'd gone through every motion of hell, they still belonged to the Capitol at the end of the day. And the Capitol liked to remind their Victors that, no matter how many people they'd killed to ensure their own survival, no matter how many people they'd still be able to kill, they _couldn't_. Because the Capitol- or, rather, President Snow- liked to keep a strong grip on the Victors. Needed to keep them someplace they wouldn't cause any trouble, as outraged, deadly Victors might. And what better way to do that than to keep them right _here_ , stranded within the Capitol walls, in a beautiful building named Victory Hall?

That, she could cope with. After all, if it meant keeping those she loved safe, she'd do anything, as would most of the Victors- and President Snow knew that. She could stand wasting her life away here, playing pretty for the cameras, attending stupid parties for the stupid inhabitants of the Capitol. That, she could do. But she wasn't prepared for the truth.

The Capitol loved their Victors. In fact, their obsession with them bordered on folly. The Hunger Games were a small part of it, but when a winner had been crowned, if he or she was attractive, or particularly interesting, they'd be the subjects of half of the conversations in the city all year, every year. The Victors were the elite among the elite. But President Snow was a resourceful man. And an ambitious one, too. And once you get to the height of ambition, where else is there to go, except down? The power was secured, but he still needed wealth. Money- it would keep the Capitolites going, keep their love and contentment of him intact. Panem...it was all in the name, wasn't it? As long as they had food and entertainment, they kept him in power. That, and a few poisonings, but those were semantics, in truth.

In order to keep the machine running, he needed money. And who better to provide for the upkeep than the Victors, all born in the Districts, who would have provided for the Capitol through their toil had they not been reaped? It kept them in their rightful place. President Snow played on the obsession the public held for the Victors. And the result was _prostitution_.

At first, when Effie Trinket had admitted, eyes downcast and lips pursed, that the most attractive and powerful Victors- those who had earned their place in Hunger Games history- were used as prostitutes, she hadn't believed it. The Games were pure evil, but _this_?

She had fought it, of course. She was so young- sixteen years old- and a virgin, and wholesome. The Capitol had stripped her of that notion, however, and a high-end prostitute had come in to educate her. Victory Hall was a brothel as well as her home now, and the earnings would go to the Capitol, although she was free to keep any gifts the clients deemed fit to offer, as it was considered good manners to leave something for the lady- or gentleman- when you requested her or his services- as if politeness could be applied to the rape of a teenager. She'd fought it, cried, screamed, but the Capitol had won- they always did. _President Snow_ always did. But in the end, this was no different from the Games. The bedroom was the Arena, and although she couldn't kill the clients- despite dreaming about doing exactly that to each and every one of them- she could make certain that she didn't leave the place like a wounded animal. Her heart would always be injured, but she could stem the bleeding between her legs. She could act it out. She could _pretend_ \- a weapon that had replaced her bow and arrows. Although it made her sick to admit it- when she did, and she tried not to, doing to herself as she did to the other Victors by ignoring her plight, hiding behind carefully built walls- she had become good at the trade. She knew when to go fast and when to go slow. She knew how to satisfy men, and women, with other means than what she had between her legs. She knew the words to say to please them, and more importantly, _how_ to say them. She knew that a glance though half-lidded eyes could bring a man undone more surely than a disheartened blowjob.

She'd never get used to it, though. She was Katniss Everdeen. She couldn't let it change her. She could live through it, go through the motions while deadening her own thoughts, but she couldn't let it break her.

She breathed in, watching the lights beneath her begin to twinkle, effectively shutting out the stars. She missed the stars. She missed the woods and the river and even the sprinkle of coal over the rooftops. Her fingers extended slightly, as they often did when she was standing on the rooftop balcony of Victory Hall, but she withdrew them, knowing that the force field surrounding the area would only cause her pain, not death. Death was never an option.

And _more_ pain was not something she needed.

She heard the door to the balcony snap open and then shut again, but didn't turn around. Sometimes, the other Victors came up here, but it was rare. She came here often, as she knew she'd be undisturbed and besides, she needed the fresh air.

She heard footsteps, and they faltered for a moment, before someone drew up to the railing she was leaning on. She didn't care who it was, so she didn't look.

“Evening, Girl on Fire.”

She kept silent for a long while, eyes skimming over the scenery, before sighing.

“Evening, Gloss.”

Gloss was one of the Victors forced to live in Victory Hall. Of course he was. He was thirty-one, and at the height of his strength. He was one of the most handsome men she'd ever met, although all Victors living here could claim to be of rare beauty, with his classical albeit flawless beauty- a chiseled face, caramel blonde hair that he wore short, and muscular build. A face- and a body- like his were bound to be noticed by President Snow for Victory Hall. Although he was from District 1, and had been a Career tribute, pampered by the Capitol, he didn't escape the rules- District 1 was still a _district_ , after all, and needed to be reminded so.

“Ah, the Capitol sights at sunset,” he said after a while, looking out at the buildings with a snort of derision. “A reminder of another night of enjoyable sex to come, right?”

Katniss didn't answer that. Already, she could feel the walls shoot up around her heart and her brain. It was a cold shower, the reminder of what was coming, as well as the idea of actually holding a conversation with anyone.

So, she simply nodded, once, and then shoved herself off of the railing before stalking towards the rooftop door, entering the small cage, then the elevator. God forbid they actually got any kind of exercise here, like some stairs. No, the only exercise available was behind locked doors.

She snorted at that, punching in the number to Floor 10.

Victory Hall was a beautiful building, all in all, made of white marble and gold tiles. A small garden stretched out back, but Katniss, despite loving the grass and the trees there, avoided it- too many of the other Victors favoured it, so she generally kept to the rooftop when she needed fresh air.

There was a basement, although off-limits to the Victors, where stocks were kept, especially of food and drugs, just in case. This was a mandatory setting in the Capitol since the Dark Days, every house having a compulsory storage just in case the filthy districts rebelled again. Floors one up to four were essentially ballrooms and meeting rooms along with a kitchen, for the couple of times per year when parties were held at the Hall, supposedly arranged by the Victors. The truth was that not a party in the Capitol went without the organisation of President Snow, and it was all for show anyway. Katniss knew that many of those invited were unaware that the Hall was actually a high-end brothel, and simply believed that the Victors had their appartments here.

The fifth floor was the hospital, and Katniss had been there several times. The memories still made her shudder in imaginary pain. Sometimes, the Victors simply fell ill, as does everyone. Sometimes, the customer was particularly brutal. Sometimes, an abortion was to be arranged quietly- Katniss could only thank her stars that had never been her case.

Floor six gave way to what was called the Style Wing. It was where stylists came to outfit the Victors, given that so many clothes were ripped to pieces, here. Katniss knew Portia came for Peeta, but she hadn't seen Cinna since her Games. A double standard that infuriated her somewhat, as she considered Cinna a true friend- maybe _that_ was the reason why he'd been replaced.

Floors seven and eight were dedicated to the Armory. In truth, it was the place where the Peacekeepers held their quarters- given that the Victors were assigned around-the-clock guards, supposedly for their security. Katniss knew that they were there, in truth, to prevent them from getting out. She didn't mind them, anyway- the Peacekeepers kept well out of their sight.

The ninth floor was a place no-one talked about, and with cause. Katniss had never been there and she doubted any of the other Victors had either. It was named the Family Wing and was reserved for any family who may want to visit the Victors. The people in the districts, however, being unable to leave their own district except for official business, no-one ever did. What business would farmers and miners and fishermen have in the Capitol?

The tenth floor was made up of the Victors' quarters. There were twenty bedrooms- not all occupied, at least at the moment- each one dedicated to a Victor and fully equipped with a bathroom. Katniss' was smack dab in the middle of the corridor. There were also multiple common rooms- a large kitchen, a dining room, the District Room- a large, cozy room with a fireplace and snuggly sofas, the walls decorated with scenes from the districts, such as fields of wheat from 11 and a coal mine tunnel from 12- and the Arena Room, a more official-looking place with a large mahogany table and bookshelves, full of censored wisdom.

Floors eleven to twenty-five were bedrooms. Themed bedroom for the most of them, in order to provide the right setting for every different need. Katniss had visited about half of them in four years.

She needed to eat. Katniss had always been a big eater, which had made hunger hard on her for the first sixteen years of her life- but she refused to go into a bedroom on an empty stomach. Somehow, it made her feel as though she was doing this as so many women in District 12 did when ligning up at Cray's door at night- to buy food. She didn't need food. She had enough of it. She needed, however, to remember that this was forced on her, always. Besides, food gave her strength, and that was vital to her task.

She stopped at the kitchen door, as she always did, eyes flickering around the kitchen. It seemed that the other Victors were readying dinner.

They had servants, of course- or rather, Avoxes, supposed to clean and cook and attend to their every need. However, when it came to cooking, they'd often shoo the Avoxes out of the kitchen. It turned out several of the Victors were rather good cooks and they liked doing it- it reminded them of home. They could make easy dishes, District meals, instead of the highly sickening food prepared in the Capitol. And, loathe as Katniss was to communicate with them- something that seemed mutual- they always laid out a serving for her, as well. In the beginning, Katniss had almost accepted their offering, but she knew that if she did so, she'd owe them.

Katniss hated that feeling. And she didn't want to join them. She never would.

Finnick Odair and Johanna Mason were standing next to the oven, snickering slightly over what she could only imagine to be an inside joke. Finnick pinched her thigh, and she responded by elbowing his ribs before whispering something that made him laugh so hard he dropped the rolling pin he was holding. Katniss felt her lips twitch slightly, ever so slightly. She'd long since repressed her reaction to Finnick- he just seemed to make everyone smile, with his jokes and his flirtiness. He had been the most difficult to ignore amongst the Victors, and although Katniss cared little for looks- especially now, given the nature of her activities, and knowing full well that pretty faces could hide the worst monsters- his beauty was striking, with his ocean green eyes and his sandy hair.

Johanna wasn't difficult to ignore, however. She had always been somewhat disparaging towards Katniss and the two disliked each other strongly. At first, Katniss had thought that Johanna was like that with everyone, until she'd seen her interact with other Victors. Johanna didn't seem to care the slightest that Katniss wouldn't talk, even in the beginning- ignoring each other was just fine. Katniss couldn't miss, however, the dislike that still shone in Johanna's eyes whenever she looked at her.

Mashing vegetables, near the door, was Enobaria. The dark-skinned woman was, Katniss supposed, the oldest Victor within the Hall, although it was difficult to attribute an age to her. Katniss suspected she was in her mid-forties, although she could easily have been ten years younger. Had Katniss not decided to ignore her fellow Victors, she supposed that she would have gotten along perfectly with Enobaria, once she got over the woman's fang-shaped teeth. Enobaria was fierce and proud of it, and Katniss supposed that, in a city of people who grafted jewels into their skin, her teeth were considered highly stylish.

Finnick, Johanna and Enobaria glanced over at her as she appeared- Finnick's grin dying slightly, Johanna's eyes narrowing, and Enobaria immediately returning to her vegetables as though she'd never interrupted. However, Katniss' eyes were on the last person present in the kitchen.

He was baking bread. Of course he was.

He didn't even acknowledge her presence- didn't as much as glance her way, as though no-one had entered the room. He merely rolled the dough under his hands. This was the way Peeta Mellark always behaved with her now.

And she hated it.

Of course, it was her fault. He'd tried to keep her close when they'd arrived at the Hall. Tried to engage her. Tried to pull her out of her walls whenever she retreated behind them. Tried to talk to her when she refused to talk to him.

It took him six months to stop trying. Six more to ignore her totally. And they'd been like this for the past three years.

At least Katniss looked at him. But he never returned the favor. Never.

Glancing away, she spotted what she was looking for and advanced into the kitchen without a word. Usually, Enobaria would salute her, or Finnick wink at her as though they were on friendly terms. But whenever Peeta was there, they just ignored her as well. Maybe they thought that Peeta was still heartbroken over her rejection, when he clearly wasn't, and kept quiet out of respect for him.

_Him_ , not her. She was Katniss Everdeen. Panem loved her. But these people weren't just ordinary citizens, they were Victors, like her. And they didn't see her through tinted glasses- they saw her as the stuck-up bitch who refused to even speak to them.

Katniss grabbed two apples from the fruit bowl, a bottle of water from the fridge, and a loaf of bread. It was the morning bread, prepared for breakfast by an Avox- she never touched Peeta's bread, despite knowing from memory that his was the best she'd ever had. Some salted ham, and she was done, walking out of the kitchen towards her bedroom to eat alone. As she passed the dining room, she noticed that the table was set for eight, as always, although there would only be seven people eating there, as always. She never joined them, never participated. And, _as always_ , her heart clenched slightly at the sight before she brought the walls back up, retreating into her bedroom where she ate silently, sitting at her desk, watching the Capitol light up through her window. A glance at the clock, when she was done, told her that it was half past seven. She had half an hour to shower and get dressed. Pressing a button under the desk, she looked at the bare wall where her schedule for the evening lit up. Perronius Gimmerlach was her first customer of the night, and he'd bought her for two hours. Then Idulla Bronsson, the stupid hen, for four hours. Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. Given the going rate for the Victors' services, it was rare to have two customers in one evening, although it had already happened- most nights, Katniss or the others didn't even have customers. That was all right. She suspected that her earnings tonight would have made Snow happy, and that she'd be out of work for the next two days. Delighted at the prospect, Katniss shot out of her seat and into the shower- Perronius Gimmerlach hated waiting.

 

 

 

 


	2. Gloss' Fury

…

“...fucking _kill_ the son of a bitch!”

Katniss' eyes shot open and, instinctively, her hand reached for her bow, before resting against the mattress. Trying to calm her beating heart, she sat up, letting the sheets slide down her naked body. A glance to the wall told her it was four in the morning. She heard a moan, then Enobaria calling something about medical help, and then a male voice began yelling again- she recognized Gloss.

“I swear I will, Finnick- I will kill him- that _bastard_ Snow can try to stop me, I'll fucking kill _him_ as well!”

That made Katniss' eyes widen and her heart pick up pace. Suddenly, she was scrambling out of bed, throwing a silk nightgown onto her bare body. She'd only been asleep for an hour, and she had no idea what was going on- only that Gloss, the pampered Career Victor, had just uttered treasonous words in a house bursting to the seams with bugs, reporting their every move to President Snow.

She flew out of her bedroom, without for one second remembering that she wasn't supposed to interact with these people.

She stopped at the door of the District Room, hand covering her mouth in shock.

The others hadn't noticed her yet. Gloss was pacing like a wild beast, running his hands through his hair, wearing nothing but a pair of silk trousers, veins straining at his forehead. Finnick and Johanna were visibly trying to calm him down, both of them occasionnally glancing at the walls around them in worry, coming to the same conclusion she had.

Her eyes briefly stopped on Peeta. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed against his chest, wearing a silk bathrobe, face thunderous, staring at the largest sofa, jaw clenching in rage.

Annie Cresta was kneeling next to the sofa, worry etched over her pretty, pale face, red hair tied in a ponytail. She was wearing a skimpy black dress, having probably only just finished work, looking far from appropriate on such an angelic person. She was Finnick's girlfriend. And a pretty Victor. A _whore_ , alongside him. Katniss wondered how they managed that- how they accepted that their other half had to sell their body.

Or maybe they didn't. They had no choice, after all. None of them did.

Enobaria was standing behind Annie, looking out of place, as Annie ran her fingers through soft blonde curls. A woman was lying on the sofa, moaning softly. She was naked, and Katniss gasped as she took in the sight of her back.

Cashmere had had a very, very bad night.

Her back was covered in lashes that had bit through the flesh, the wounds still bleeding. As she shivered slightly- a new groan ripping from her chest- Katniss noticed with a small gasp that she could see bone in some places.

Enobaria cast an annoyed glance towards the wall, where someone had obviously dialed the Hall surgeon. His holograph hung against the wall, over a timer- he would be here in thirteen minutes. Katniss glanced at Cashmere. Without medical aid, the woman wouldn't last thirteen minutes.

She stepped forward into the room, advancing towards Cashmere, purposefully ignoring the other Victors' stares. She swore she could feel Peeta's eyes on her- something that hadn't happened in three years- but, when she glanced his direction, he was staring at Gloss, frowning, obviously trying to make sure that the man wouldn't do anything rash.

Katniss squatted by Cashmere's side, ignoring Annie's shy smile. Annie was the only one who smiled at her anymore, the only one who tried, every so often, to engage her in conversation and not just polite salutations. Katniss tried to speak softly to her, hoping that the others wouldn't hear, but flinched when she discovered that they did anyway- she realized that the room had fallen silent when she had entered it. Securing her nightgown, she muttered,

“Have someone dial the surgeon again and stress the emergency. Remind him that if _she_ dies, his life is on the line- Snow won't like loosing her. Bring me some clean towels and warm water. Also, any strong painkillers we might have.”

Annie leaped into action, her angelic face surprisingly determined, and Enobaria reached the phone to dial the surgeon.

“I think I have some painkillers,” Finnick muttered gruffly before leaving the room.

Katniss remained silent, although she felt someone's shadow lurking over her. Johanna Mason glared down, face pinched in anger.

“So, all of a sudden you _care_?” she spat.

Katniss felt self-righteous anger run through her veins, but ignored it. She couldn't let any of the other Victors get to her, one way or another. Or else her walls would crumble. She didn't answer, knowing full well that she couldn't ignore Johanna forever. The woman's fingers twitched, as though she wanted to strangle her.

“And what makes you think you're good at this anyway?” Johanna snapped. “For all we know, given how high and mighty you think you are compared to us, you could be _killing_ her.”

That struck a nerve and Katniss almost spat something equally rude back. High and mighty? She supposed that was the reputation you got when you played at refusing to mingle.

When Peeta's voice rose, she shivered slightly, heart thumping. Given her self-imposed solitude, she rarely heard him speak these days, but sometimes, she'd hear his laughter or grasp a few words, and it was as though she heard him for the first time.

She was glad she hadn't had time to totally fall in love with him in the Arena. That would have made the present even more complicated. She'd been able to brush off whatever it was that she'd felt for him under the guise of being star-crossed lovers, but she couldn't _quite_ forget. She'd cared for him a great deal. Even now, four years later, she _still_ cared. But she refused to show it. Refused to open her heart to anyone.

“Her mother's a Healer,” he said. “She'll know better than anyone here what to do.”

Katniss looked at him, but he was still leaning against the wall, watching Gloss, ignoring her. Narrowing her eyes, she turned back to Annie and Finnick who had just returned. Katniss grabbed the painkillers, eyes wandering over them. Many she didn't recognize.

“Give her those,” she ordered, hanging two boxes to Annie and the rest to Finnick. “Two tabs each.”

Annie nodded and obeyed, and Katniss grabbed one of the towels, wetting it in the basin of warm water the young woman had brought along, before bringing it to Cashmere's side, carefully, daintily mopping up the blood. As she passed it over Cashmere's cuts, she noticed the absence of reaction- the Victor had been knocked out, either by the pain or by the painkillers, which was a good thing for her, all considered.

Another glance at the surgeon's portrait read four minutes. Much better, and she caught Enobaria's eye- the woman's threats had obviously worked. Katniss recognized the glint there, the glint that informed her of a fresh kill, one born of necessity, a kill meant to save a life. Enobaria hadn't killed the surgeon, but threatening him must have felt pretty similar. Katniss bit back a grin.

Cashmere's wounds were no longer weeping blood, and Katniss cleaned them further, until each and every lash was standing out. It was still ugly, but at least it was something to work with.

The surgeon, pale and sweaty, walked in as she finished, still dressed as a party-goer. So that's where he was, instead of being on duty in his quarters a few floors down. Ridiculous. And _unforgivable_.

He knelt down by Cashmere's side as two assistants bustled in. One of them gasped at the sight of her back, then the surgeon ordered, voice firm,

“Everyone, out, now. I cannot operate under these circumstances.”

Katniss caught the murderous face Gloss was wearing, and she picked herself up from the floor.

“I will stay,” Annie declared to the surgeon, and Katniss was glad she, herself, hadn't had to. Whenever one of their own was hospitalized, one of the other Victors stayed during the operation and afterwards- that was how deep their lack of trust for the Capitol ran. Katniss had, as they all did, visited the hospital downstairs a few times, and each time had awoken to either Annie or Enobaria. The others, it would seem, couldn't be bothered when it came to her.

“No one is staying,” the surgeon sneered, preparing his needle.

“Yes she is,” Gloss all but growled. “Because if she isn't, it's me, and I'll rip your fucking head off and use your skull as a goblet during the next Victors' party.”

Finnick coughed and showed the door. They filed out, Katniss second to last, and Finnick closed the door behind him. Once in the corridor, Katniss felt a wave of fatigue sweep over her, and as the others entered the Arena Room, Katniss' hand fell on the doorknob to her room.

“Oh, no you don't, Girl on Fire,” Finnick's amused voice muttered near her ear.

Katniss turned toward him, ignoring his beautiful face and mocking tone.

“No I don't...what?”

“We're having a little meeting in the Arena Room, and for _once_ , you're going to act like a member of Victory Hall and attend it,” he answered softly, although she noticed his eyes were cold.

She looked him up and down.

“You don't get to order me around, Odair,” she snapped in return. “I'd like to preserve the last freedom I have- that to come and go as I please within my own home.”

Finnick's eyes widened slightly and he pulled something from his pocket. A sugar cube. He was always sucking on one. He slipped it between his lips and winked, although some of his usual fire seemed to be gone.

“ _Home_ ,” he repeated. “They got you good, didn't they, Girl on Fire?”

She stilled at that, feeling the colours drain from her face. When did home stop being the Seam? When did home become Victory Hall? Four years ago, obviously.

“What's this little meeting all about, anyway?” she snarled, fingers clenching around the doorknob, and she saw a slight twinkle in Finnick's eyes.

“There she is,” he breathed before adding, his voice higher. “You heard Gloss, when Enobaria brought Cashmere back from her client?”

Katniss remembered the treasonous words slipping from Gloss' lips. Words that could put all of them in danger. Finnick continued as she nodded stiffly,

“After tonight, you can bet that President Snow will be sending his goons in here. We need to prepare.”

“Prepare,” she said. “In the Arena Room? A place full of bugs?”

“If you'd paid attention to anyone here during the past four years, Girl on Fire, you'd _know_.”

_Know what?_ she wanted to say, but he'd already turned on his heel, heading towards the Arena Room. Katniss hesitated, hand still on the doorknob. She could ignore them, return to her bed, pretend that everything was business as usual. But Finnick was right- Snow would want to know exactly where everyone stood in regards to Gloss' anger, and he would send in his people to make sure that the Victors weren't planning anything. And she was a Victor. Despite her ignoring the others, she was still, she knew, a high-risk profile, the girl who had ignited uprisings in the districts during her Games- quickly tampered out, but _still_.

Katniss sighed and let go of the doorknob, turning on her heel and entering the Arena Room as well, eyes flickering over the other Victors, save for Annie and Cashmere, who were still in the District Room. Her eyes met Finnick's as he chewed on his sugar cube, lips curved upwards.

“Know _what_?” she snapped, closing the door.

“That we've rooted out the bugs, all of them, in this room,” he answered, taking a seat around the long table where everyone else was sitting. “Took about a year, but we managed it.”

“And Snow doesn't realize that this room is no longer bugged?” she asked in disbelief.

“No,” Enobaria replied, fingertips drumming on the table. “We've managed to silence the bugs and cover the cameras with replica images of an empty Arena Room. They simply believe that we don't use this room. And we rarely use it anyway. Snow knows,” she indicated the bookshelves around them, “that we aren't interested in Capitol propaganda, and,” she pointed to the large paintings of tributes dying in the arena over the years, “this is the stuff our nightmares are made of, so why would we use this room instead of the District Room anyway?”

“Sit, Katniss,” Finnick ordered softly, and she obeyed, head thrumming.

She had to keep her eyes from wandering towards Peeta.

“Okay,” Johanna stated. “Now that the _infamous_ Mockingjay has gotten off her high horse, what do we do? Gloss, I know that Cash is your sister, but what you said is going to guarantee that-”

“I know,” Gloss spat, glowering at no-one in particular. “I shouldn't have yelled that in the District Room.”

“As much as I'd like to see Snow dead,” Enobaria said, as several Victors chuckled, “that really wasn't the time, Gloss.”

“It doesn't matter,” Finnick interrupted. “None of that matters anymore. What we need to do is agree on what to do now. You can bet that even if President Snow doesn't send anyone in, we're going to be watched more carefully than ever, which will...complicate things.”

Katniss blinked.

“Complicate what?” she asked.

No-one answered, and she narrowed her eyes, catching the glances they exchanged. Whatever it was, they were hiding it from her on purpose. Her eyes slid to Peeta automatically. He was once the person she entrusted with her very life, but now, he ignored her, as always.

“Finnick...” she warned softly, but Finnick shook his head.

“I'm simply talking about our daily life,” he explained. “The things we can and cannot say any more.”

It came across as true, but Katniss knew it was a lie. Suddenly, she felt the need to speak to someone, someone who wasn't an inhabitant of Victory Hall. But she couldn't. Her family and Gale didn't know the truth of what she did here. They only believed that she had to live in the Capitol as a Victor, in peace, spending her days doing silly socialite stuff and her nights partying away. She didn't trust Effie Trinket with such talk, and she hadn't seen Cinna in years. That left one person, and she wasn't sure whether or not she could really trust him.

“Well then, it's clear to me,” she snapped, rising from her chair. “We just go on being good little whores for the Capitolites, and that's it.”

She marched out of the room, slamming the door. No-one called her back.

Katniss slipped into her bedroom, body tired but mind buzzing. She needed to think.

It was obvious now that the Victors were hiding something from her. She'd never thought that could be the case. She didn't know what it was, but they hadn't spent an entire year debugging a room for nothing. They wanted to have conversations without the Capitol listening in.

How long had the Arena Room been debugged for? How long had they been having secret conversations, hiding not only from Snow, but from her? Why invite her tonight, only to keep things from her?

Frustrated, Katniss let herself fall upon her bed, head spinning. The evening had brought forth some news, however- the Victors didn't trust her. Whatever they were planning, they didn't trust the Girl on Fire turned silent and haughty.

All of a sudden, the need to talk to someone was overwhelming.

Katniss rolled out of bed and grabbed the holophone, uttering two words.

“Haymitch Abernathy.”

The holophone began ringing.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your support! I'm glad you liked the first chapter and hopefully you will like this one too. Chapter 3 will be up sometime soon!


	3. Haymitch's Advice

...

Haymitch's face covered the wall as he answered the call, eyes half-closed as he brought a glass of something amber to his lips. He stared right at her in silence for a moment, and all of a sudden, Katniss regretted the call. However, he spoke then and she couldn't simply hang up on him.

“Evening, sweetheart,” he drawled, his voice thick. He'd obviously been drinking for quite some time. “Funny that you remember I exist.”

Katniss felt her shoulders lock up. When was the last time she'd talked to him? Four years ago, just before being whisked away to Victory Hall. She'd just learned what her fate was about to be, that she was to become a whore for the Capitol's most perverse desires. She'd screamed at him, thrown a few empty glasses in his direction, missing him every time. And then she'd been forced into the car by a bunch of Peacekeepers and she'd stopped talking to everyone.

She hadn't called him since. For the first few months, he'd tried, like the others had. She'd ignored every incoming call, had refused to see him when he visited. And then he'd stopped.

Katniss opened her mouth, unsure of what to answer, and said the only thing that came to mind.

“You're not dead yet.”

He didn't flinch as she did. Instead, he chuckled, voice low, and took another sip.

“You'd like that very much, wouldn't you, sweetheart? That's what you said last time we saw each other. That you hoped I'd die for hiding what happened to the prettier Victors from you. You said the same to Effie. Thought that was going to kill _her_ right there.”

He chuckled again, but Katniss didn't find it funny. At all. She wanted to slap the drink out of his !hand, but Haymitch was far away, probably in District 12. She knew he visited the Capitol every year for the Hunger Games as a mentor. Katniss had always refused that role, choosing to remain in Victory Hall, unable to send children off to their deaths. Peeta went, she knew. Peeta and Haymitch mentored the kids for the slaughter. She felt the frustration build up in her chest.

“Why?” she snapped instead.

Haymitch's eyes focused for a moment, his mouth briefly twisting.

“They wanted me to enter Victory Hall too,” he stated, voice steady. “When I won my Games.” He paused and she frowned. “I refused. They killed my family.” She shivered. “If I had told you what awaited you, Katniss, you'd have refused as well, and then you'd have regretted it once they killed yours.”

She wanted to say it wasn't true, that she would have been able to protect them, that she would have fought off anyone who tried to touch them, her mother and Gale and Prim. But she knew that wasn't true. Her family would be dead, and there's nothing she would have been able to do about it.

“It must be about five in the morning in the Capitol,” he stated, squinting at something- probably the time on his holophone. “Why're you calling, sweetheart? Thought I was dead in your eyes.”

She pursed her lips.

“I know you don't sleep at night,” she uttered. “That you sleep only during the day.”

He drank again, finishing his glass, before grabbing a bottle and pulling another drink. Was this what she would have become, had she not obeyed the Capitol? Probably. The Victors were all broken in their own way. Those who had gone too far, such as Haymitch, were restricted to their districts, except for the compulsory mentoring once a year. She disliked Haymitch's habits, but she couldn't blame him for them. Even the Victors died in the arena, although their death was much longer to come.

“You didn't answer my question,” he slurred, and she sighed.

“I don't know, Haymitch,” she muttered. “I guess I just needed to talk.”

“Talk, huh? Yeah, _everyone_ needs that, sweetheart. Even those who refuse all human contact around them.”

She frowned at him as he downed the glass in one go, grasping at the bottle again.

“You _know_ ,” she growled.

“Yeah, I know all about that. I see Peeta once a year, remember? When you pretend that the Games don't exist and that the tributes from 12 don't need your help.”

“I don't pretend,” she snarled. “What good could I do them? Peeta and you are better at that than I could ever be.”

“Whatever, sweetheart. Just hoping that you still manage to sleep at night.”

“I don't sleep at night, Haymitch. I sell my body, remember?”

He stared at her for a short while.

“So does Peeta,” he reminded her, voice almost soft. “It's a good thing that you gave up on him, you know. He's far better off without you. You could live a hundred lifetimes and _still_ not deserve him.”

She clenched her teeth.

“I don't want him anyway,” she answered coldly.

“Go on and wallow in your self-pity, sweetheart. It's the best thing you could've ever done for him.”

She opened her mouth to answer, certainly something rude, but he pointed a finger at her suddenly.

“Now, sweetheart, don't give me any bullshit about wanting to talk to your drunkard, half-dead, partially decayed old mentor. You called me for a reason.”

She hesitated.

“And you answered for a reason.”

“That I did,” he stated, taking a long drink from the bottle itself. “Wanted to know what the Girl on Fire had to say after four years of radio silence.”

“Something happened tonight,” she sighed, sitting down at her desk as he squinted at her. “Cashmere was severely hurt by a client, and Gloss...well, he had a kind of meltdown. He said a lot of things.”

“Ah,” Haymitch stated, suddenly seeming slightly more alert. “The sort of things that could get you lot in trouble, hmm?”

“Well, yes.”

“And you're interrupting my night of drinking for _this_ , sweetheart? Go on and done as you've been doing for these past four years. _Ignore it_. I think you know how to manage the situation by now.”

“He threatened to kill Snow,” she whispered, but he still heard and went up in guffaws.

“You're in your bedroom,” he reminded her, still grinning.

She recognized the threat. Her bedroom was bugged. She knew it, but still...something didn't sit quite right with the way he said it. It could be innocent, as though it was simply a reminder not to continue this conversation in such a setting, but she sensed something else.

“Where else would I be?” she asked carefully.

“I don't know, sweetheart. You're in Victory Hall. Doubt there's a place where you could speak unhinged in there, hmm?”

She stared at him for a short while, wheels spinning in her brain, when suddenly it hit her with the strength of a force field. Her eyes widened slightly, and Haymitch chuckled, letting her know that he knew she'd understood.

He _knew_. He knew about the Arena Room. He knew that it was no longer bugged.

The consequences of that knowledge were overwhelming. It meant Peeta had told him, but why would Peeta do that? If the Arena Room was merely a place the Victors went to have personal conversations without Snow's ears listening in, Haymitch needn't know about the room. No, if Haymitch knew, it meant that whatever went on in there went further than ordinary discussions- it meant that he was aware of whatever was being said in there. Being careful to remember the bugs, Katniss asked,

“So, you're still in regular contact with Peeta. I suppose the other Victors say hi.”

A _seemingly_ innocent question. After all, Snow probably knew that Peeta and Haymitch were in contact outside of the annual Games, and Haymitch had been friends with many of the Victors for years. However, Haymitch's eyes seemed to narrow slightly and she knew he'd understood the hidden question there.

“Yes, they do,” he smirked.

That meant that Haymitch was in contact with the others too. To what end, Katniss could only guess. However, she also knew that in such a setting, Haymitch wouldn't answer any more questions. He talked first as she sat there, still trying to take all the information in.

“Look, sweetheart,” he said, still drinking from the bottle. “I'm going to give you some advice, as your mentor. You can't play games with them, okay? You've been ignoring them and they don't see you as someone particularly trustworthy. They don't like you. And that's probably dangerous. They're Victors too, Katniss. And they escaped the arena alone, without help from any of the other tributes, unlike Peeta and you.” He took a long sip, eyes not leaving hers. “You'd do well to stop ignoring them, because quite frankly, you're being a bitch.”

She bristled at that, glowering at him.

“I'm not being a bitch,” she snapped. “I'm protecting myself. This isn't a game. They remind me of myself and I can't bear that.”

Something flashed across Haymitch's eyes. Understanding, maybe.

“Katniss,” he sighed, shaking his head ever so slightly. “You're a team, whether you like it or not. These people are the only people in Panem to understand you. To understand what it's like to survive the Games. To understand what it's like to whore yourself out to protect your loved ones. You'd do well with a bit of help. I think you'd find that you'll suffer less.”

She sat there, grinding her teeth. Maybe he was right. Haymitch was, despite his habits, one of the cleverest people she knew. She'd been rejecting the others to protect herself, but did that _really_ work? She still suffered. Her heart still clenched when she saw the table set for eight.

“I'm not good at relationships,” she muttered, and he grinned slightly.

“I know you're not, sweetheart. But this isn't about relationships. It's about survival.”

There was a shattering noise as Haymitch tossed his empty bottle over his shoulder, and grabbed a new one.

“Look, I'm not going to tell you what to do, Katniss,” he stated. “Truth be told, I've given up on you for _years_. But if you had any sense in that pea that you call a brain, you'd do as I say. Befriend them. Not even _you_ can go without the security of human contact. It's in our nature.”

She clenched her jaw, unhappy with the way the conversation was going.

“I've got to get going,” he said, and she knew it was a lie- Haymitch didn't have much to do except get drunk, but she was tired herself. “But remember what I said, sweetheart...join the group. Oh, one last thing, Katniss- _Peeta_.”

She felt herself tense up but merely raised an eyebrow.

“It won't be easy for him to forgive your behaviour over these past four years, sweetheart, but that doesn't mean that you should give up on his friendship. It's Peeta Mellark we're talking about- he has the most noble soul I've ever met.”

Katniss' eyes widened in surprise.

“I thought that it was a good thing that I keep away from Peeta,” she reminded him. “You said so yourself.”

“True,” he answered. “In any other situation, I'd advise you to keep well away from him. But you never know when you're going to need your friends, Katniss.”

There was a short silence as she struggled to come to terms with his meaning.

“You're suggesting I become friends with him again. Why?”

“For the same reason you called me.”

She frowned. She'd called Haymitch to explain the weird things going on tonight. But maybe that was all connected somehow.

“I'm missing something here,” she stated softly.

“You're missing a _lot_ of things here, Katniss,” he answered, suddenly serious, before his eyes slipped over her room, and she knew he was reminding her of the bugs. Then he looked back at her again, his voice innocent. “Most of all, you're missing out on friendship. And on Peeta.” He leaned forward. “Don't lie to me, sweetheart. I know that not one hundred percent of what went on in that arena between you and him was for show.” He leaned back. “Understandable, really. If I were a young woman, I'd be head over heels for him.”

He chuckled as she raised her eyes to the ceiling.

“Shouldn't you get going?” she snapped, and he chuckled again.

“Ah, Katniss, you're not fooling me. If you wanted this conversation to end, you'd already have hung up on me.” He winked at her, bringing the bottle to his lips.

“I just feel lost,” she muttered, fingers drumming over her desk in small patterns. “I've been ignoring them for years, and now, you want me to become friends with them.”

“Which is the same advice I'd have given you four years ago, had you answered my calls.”

There was a short silence.

“We're all broken, sweetheart,” he reminded her, voice soft. “But you have a choice. Be broken alone, or be broken together. Remember the Hunger Games. Why do the Careers always create an alliance?”

“There's strength in numbers,” she sighed.

“Exactly. There's strength in numbers.”

“But then, they turn on each other,” she reminded him somewhat curtly.

“That, they do. But do they have a choice?”

She sighed again.

“I guess not.”

“No, they don't. If they did, don't you think they'd have pulled a Mockingjay?”

Her memory briefly slipped back to the morning after Cato's death, when she'd pulled a fistful of nightlock from her pocket.

“I don't know, Haymitch. Most of the Careers are volunteers.”

“I'll tell you what, sweetheart. Those kids are raised from birth being taught that this is the only way. That they must volunteer for the Games or risk eternal shame. That they must kill to survive. The choice is never theirs. If given the choice, however...” He shrugged. “Cato wanted to return home to become a sports coach. Did you know that? Clove wanted to have a family. Glimmer wanted to become a stylist. Marvel, Finnick, Mags in her day...they all had plans. None of them truly wanted the Games.”

“They were all good-looking,” she reminded him. “They'd all be in Victory Hall now.”

“They would. Finnick is. Mags was, until she retired, too old for the trade and obedient enough to return home. Another choice taken from them.”

She nodded slowly. She didn't know what Haymitch was trying to say, really, but she knew that this must be something of importance.

“You had a choice,” he grunted. “Be another victim of the arena, or become the Girl on Fire. You made that choice, sweetheart. Live with it...or _don't_.”

He raised his bottle in salute, and the call disconnected.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you go! Hope you like my Haymitch, I found him so fascinating to write I've included him in this fic a lot. Will publish soon!


	4. Daunting Attempts

…

She hesitated, fist raised in front of the door, lips pursed, before bringing her fist back to her side with a sigh. This was ridiculous. She shouldn't be here. At this time of the afternoon, she should be on the rooftop balcony, or locked away in her room. Not following her drunken mentor's advice. And yet, something about the way he'd spoken to her had caught her attention. It wasn't what he said, really, as much as what was left unsaid. The wary glances. The way his eyes swept over the room, looking for visible bugs. The way his voice would vary from amused to serious. There was something going on here.

Haymitch had never liked her, not really. He adored Peeta. That was the case for most people. She was thoroughly unlikeable, what with her glares and her harsh words. Peeta was the one who won hearts, who knew how to speak and what to say. Everyone loved him. The districts may have paid close attention to the Girl on Fire, but their hearts were always rooting for the boy with the bread. Haymitch didn't really care all that much if she was unhappy- he certainly believed that it was her fault for rejecting the other Victors, and that may be the truth, but the way he had insisted on her befriending the others wasn't for her benefit, she knew that.

Besides, Katniss wanted to know what, exactly, was going on. She hated being left in the dark. Something was happening here, between the debugging of the Arena Room, the Victor's meeting and Haymitch's advice. And if that meant having to play nice to get the information out of them, then she'd do exactly that. She managed to pretend for her clients. This wasn't any different.

_But it was_ , her treacherous heart reminded her. _These are your people, not clients. They're just like you. And you used to be very fond of at least one of them._

Sighing, she finally brought her hand up and knocked.

There was a shuffle, and then the door opened and her eyes landed upon Finnick Odair. He was openly grinning. When he saw her standing there, his grin fell slightly and his eyebrows shot up. Then, with a winning smirk, he leaned against the door.

“Afternoon, Girl on Fire,” he stated, voice amused. “How come you're here? Never thought you were one for social visits.”

She glared at him.

“I'm not here to see you, Finnick. This isn't your room.”

He mock-gasped, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth, eyes gleaming.

“Wh- _what_? The Girl on Fire actually _knows_ where we board?”

She rolled her eyes, muttering a silent prayer for patience.

“Well colour me shocked,” he exclaimed, before bringing a sugar cube to his lips and winking at her. “How're you doing, Kitty Cat?”

“For God's sake, Finnick,” she finally exploded, “I want to see Peeta. Is he here?”

Finnick grinned at her, raising his voice, eyes never leaving her own.

“Oi, _Peeta_!”

Peeta's voice rose, clear and strong, from somewhere in the bedroom, and Katniss couldn't help shivering. He still managed to touch her, deep inside, after all these years. She ignored Finnick's curious glance at her reaction.

“What is it, Odair?”

As if Peeta ignored what it was, exactly. He'd certainly heard everything since she knocked. Katniss crossed her arms, letting them play their little game.

“Looks like you left the cat out, mate,” Finnick hollered back.

“We don't have a cat,” Peeta's voice rang out, clearly amused.

“Well, your sweet co-Victor is paying you a visit.”

“Neither Johanna nor Cashmere are my co-Victors, Fin. Not the same Games.”

Katniss let an audible sigh escape her. _This_ game was beginning to test her patience.

“Katniss Everdeen,” Finnick answered, obviously highly amused.

Peeta marked a pause.

“What does she want?” he barked, and Katniss flinched.

“To see you, I'd think. Need condoms?”

“I've got condoms, Fin,” Peeta laughed, “as though I'd ever waste them on _her_.”

Katniss blanched slightly. This Peeta was so far removed from what she knew, from the polite, loving boy of the arena.

“No condoms, then,” Finnick answered, eyeing Katniss curiously again. “Well? Do I let her in or am I going to hold the door all day?”

“No.”

Finnick pursed his lips slightly, the game gone out of him as soon as Peeta spoke that one word with such ice that both he and Katniss flinched.

“Well, you heard him, Girl on Fire,” he murmured. “No hard feelings.”

He took a step back and closed the door, but not before Katniss heard Peeta snarl,

“ _Feelings_? That girl is unable to feel anything but her own-”

The door closed, and Katniss uncrossed her arms, feeling numb. Thoughts swirling around her head, she let her steps take her automatically towards the rooftop, where she stood, leaning against the railing, letting the sun shower over her. Spring was peaceful. Summer would be upon them soon, and with it, the next annual Hunger Games.

The sun was beginning to set when she heard the door open, and someone crossing the roof. Once again, she found herself reduced to silence as the person joined her.

“Katniss.”

She turned, slightly surprised at the voice, and found herself drowning in the blue depths of Cashmere's eyes.

“Cashmere,” she returned, slightly puzzled.

Although Gloss often exchanged a few polite words with her, the same couldn't be said for his sister. Cashmere tended to act as Peeta did- as though she didn't exist. She never smiled at her, simply looking straight past her as though she wasn't there. Her blonde curls were left loose upon her shoulders, far from her usual, sexy updos. And most strangely, the woman was smiling softly at her.

“I just wanted to thank you,” Cashmere said. “For last night.”

“I didn't do anyth-”

“Peeta told me that you took stuff in charge when I was bleeding out,” the beautiful blonde woman informed her. “The surgeon said that if the bleeding hadn't be stemmed, I would have died before he reached me.”

Katniss' jaw clenched. The conversation was already tiring her, but she tried to continue it, remembering Haymitch's words.

“That's because the no-good piece of shit was out partying in town,” she answered.

Cashmere laughed quietly.

“It doesn't matter, Katniss. Death is better than _this_ life.”

“Then you have nothing to thank me for.”

There was a short silence, and Katniss was surprised at how peaceful it was.

“Of course I do,” Cashmere answered sadly, after some time. “If I'd died, you can bet that President Snow would have taken his frustration out on Gloss.”

It was true. Cashmere's brother had nothing to do with her injuries, but Snow would have made him pay. Cashmere was his best element within the Hall- she raked in twice as much money as Annie or Enobaria did. Katniss guessed she was somewhere in between.

“How are you out of bed so early? Those wounds would take weeks to heal,” Katniss wondered, turning toward Cashmere.

“Oh, in the districts, certainly. But you've been to our hospital wing before. You know that Capitol medecine and surgery is far more advanced. I'll be able to work in a few days, once all traces have disappeared.”

“Does it hurt?”

Cashmere's sad glance answered her. Katniss sighed.

“You'd better get back to bed,” she muttered. “You'll need all the rest you can get.”

The blonde woman smirked at that.

“Not working for a few days makes a near-death experience almost worth it,” she said, and Katniss knew that it was true.

She hesitated for a moment before adding,

“When Enobaria brought you back last night, Gloss...well, he was pretty pissed.”

“I bet he was,” Cashmere chuckled, but Katniss saw the way her shoulders tensed slightly. So, she already knew what had happened. “Gloss can have a huge mouth on him. Speaks without thinking.”

Her eyes slid over the railings obnoxiously, and Katniss sighed. The good thing about being quiet for four long years was that she didn't have to worry about the bugs. They had nothing to report on her behalf.

“I guess,” Katniss shrugged.

Cashmere stared at her for a short while, thoughtful, but then shook her blonde curls.

“Well, it's getting cooler,” she stated. “Better get going.”

With that, she disappeared indoors. Katniss waited until the first city lights lit up and then imitated her. She'd already checked her schedule- as expected, no customers tonight, at least not for her. She could wait until the other Victors had had dinner before preparing herself something warm. No matter what Haymitch said, she still wasn't quite ready to change four years of behaviour to join them.

As the elevator reached the tenth floor, Katniss heard screams erupt from the District Room, and her pace sped up until she reached the place.

All of the Victors were there. The sofa Cashmere had bled out on the previous evening had already been replaced, and Johanna was sitting on it, head in her hands, as Annie tentatively rubbed her back in small, soothing circles. The others were crammed around. As Katniss reached the room, she noticed that Peeta was speaking in that calm, low, seductive voice of his, sitting in an armchair across from Johanna. The effect he had on people when he spoke like that was almost mesmerizing, and it seemed to work on Johanna the same way it did on her.

“...not that bad,” he was saying, and Katniss felt herself shivering at the sound. “You've been there before, Jo. You know he won't touch you.”

“That's not it,” Johanna gasped, face scrunched up in fury. “You know this is linked to last night.”

Gloss bent down over Johanna's shoulder, lightly kissing her temple, and Katniss was struck all of a sudden at how deep the bond between the seven Victors in front of her seemed to go. They were more than a bunch of people soldiering up together against their fate. They were a _family_.

A family she had willingly excluded herself from. Her heart clenched violently at the thought. How often would she have liked someone to hold her, to kiss her temple like that, to murmur sweet nothings? How easier would it have been to suffer through her life?

“I'm sorry, Jo,” Gloss whispered against her ear, and Johanna grabbed his hand, eyes shining with unshed tears. Johanna was a fighter. She wouldn't cry. “I'm so, so sorry.”

“It's not your fault, Gloss,” she answered quietly. “It's _his_. It's _always_ been his.”

“You'll be back by morning,” Finnick stated, rubbing her knee. For once, he looked serious.

“Or I'll be dead.”

“He doesn't want that, Jo. I doubt he'll even tor-”

Finnick's eyes suddenly met Katniss', and he stopped talking immediately. The others turned around, watching her closely as well, and she realized that she wasn't welcome here- that she was interrupting something personal, in which she had no place. She bit back an apology and almost fled the room, until Johanna spat,

“This must make you happy, huh, _Mockingjay_?”

Katniss frowned and took a step forward. Haymitch told her to be friends with the tributes, but she couldn't with Johanna. However, she could fight with her instead of ignoring her- something of a relief, to finally be able to take her frustrations out on someone.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” she answered coldly, and noticed the ripple of surprise go through the small crowd- she had never met Johanna's provocative behaviour head-on before. Only Peeta hadn't looked at her, hadn't reacted, as though she wasn't there. Johanna's eyes narrowed, as though forgetting her plight in the face of this new adversity, and Katniss could have sworn she saw interest there, that Johanna was finally going to be able to get into a fight with her, too- as though Johanna needed this as much as _she_ did.

“My client tonight is President Snow,” Johanna snapped, and Katniss' eyes widened. “Bet that makes you glad, Everdeen. Wouldn't happen to you, what with you being the Capitol's good girl and everything.”

Shock warred with anger in Katniss. She had no idea that Snow sometimes called upon the Victors for his personal gain. However, she didn't like Johanna's opinion of her.

“The Capitol's good girl?” she repeated, the warning in her voice clear, taking another step forward.

“Oh, snap out of it,” Johanna spat. “No matter what happened during your Games, you've done a complete turn-around, haven't you? Ignoring us, doing as you're told, never one toe out of line. Great job, really. Peeta says you're a horrible actress, so I can only imagine it's not for show.”

Katniss inhaled sharply. She knew the Victors didn't hold her in high respect, but this was taking things too far. She wanted to yell that it wasn't true, that if her acting skills were that bad, she wouldn't have been able to convince Panem of the whole star-crossed lovers business, and they wouldn't have been able to get out of that arena alive. But she couldn't. This was the District Room, and it was bugged. So instead, she sneered at Johanna.

“Don't pretend to know me, Mason,” she spat, before turning on her heel and hurrying out of the room.

She returned to the rooftop. She couldn't bear to be with the Victors right now, hated the idea of being indoors. So she lost herself in the Capitol lights, trying to numb her heart. It would seem that letting down her walls didn't help her suffering, as Haymitch had claimed- it only made her more vulnerable to pain.

She couldn't help pondering Johanna's words. This was how the other Victors saw her- as the Capitol's good girl. The Girl whose Fire went out. The little turncoat Katniss Everdeen. Was she? Had she made the Capitol's gain? She'd only tried to protect herself by blocking out the others. But did it protect her, truly? Or did she merely isolate herself enough to step into line?

She could imagine Snow's snake-like grin as he viewed the Hall cameras. The others, scowling and complaining about their fate, as she, on the opposite, walked around wearing a poker face as though she accepted the way her body was used and her soul supposedly destroyed.

She couldn't blame the Victors. She had done this to herself. Suddenly, the idea of following Haymitch's advice was unbearable. There was no escaping her fate. So why would she try? The Victors hated her. There was no turning this around.

The moon was high in the sky when she finally turned around and decided to go to bed.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh! She's trying. She's not one hundred percent into it, and not all of the other Victors are either. Johanna...is being Johanna, and Peeta, well- he's not willing to go there yet. But things will quickly begin to pick up from now on. 'Till soon and thanks for your support!


	5. The Games We Play

…

Johanna didn't seem hurt in any way, but she did, however, seem wary. There was a slight falter to her step, Katniss decided, a tightening of her jaw whenever she looked over her shoulder, as though she was expecting something, or someone, to attempt to murder her whenever her back was turned. However, and no matter what her own dislike of Johanna may be, Katniss was relieved to notice that she didn't seem worse for wear when she returned from the Mansion- for Snow, apparently, rarely hired the prostitutes, and when he did, insisted they come to him rather than present himself at Victory Hall.

Katniss, however, had other troubles on her mind.

She'd never noticed it before, what with her self-imposed isolation, but she couldn't shake the sudden feeling that the Victors were plotting something. Of course, there was the matter of the Arena Room being debugged and Haymitch's advice, suspicious in itself, but there was also the behaviour she'd never noticed. Sometimes, whenever she entered a room, the conversations would suddenly burn out. Initially, she believed that the conversations were of personal nature, and that the Victors merely wished to exclude her from their privacy. But it was also the way the Victors' eyes would seem to follow her suspiciously, and how the conversation would pick up again in hushed tones whenever she left the room. It was the glances she'd receive in passing, as though they were wondering what her motives were whenever she happened upon them.

She'd spent four years putting this down to them ignoring her as she did them, but her instincts told her that that theory didn't fit anymore.

She realized what was going on one evening when she was in the kitchen, alone, heating up some lamb stew. She had no clients tonight. Finnick and Enobaria suddenly walked into the kitchen, muttering among themselves, faces serious. The two Victors who generally didn't care about Katniss' presence when they were having a friendly conversation stopped instantly when they spotted her, and she heard, without turning around, Finnick's soft whisper to Enobaria,

“Not here.”

They immediately turned around and left, taking their murmured conversation elsewhere, and Katniss _understood_ , all of a sudden.

They weren't talking in front of her because she was the Capitol's good girl. Because they thought that she was a bug. A living, breathing one, in Snow's good graces.

And if they weren't talking in front of her, that meant that they wanted to keep their conversations from Snow. Which in turn could only mean one thing.

They were _plotting_.

Plotting what, exactly, Katniss didn't know. However, her heart sped up at the idea. Maybe she was being paranoid, but she didn't believe that for one second. The Victors all won their Games because, in part, of their instincts. Their instincts were honed, well enough to recognize danger or potential allies.

The urge to understand what was going on was overwhelming, and Katniss suddenly did something she never had done before- she marched to the District Room where the group schedule was kept. It was a security measure- every Victor wrote down where and whom they were with each night. That was how Enobaria had known that Cashmere was in trouble when her client had whipped her to the bone- she hadn't respected the schedule, hadn't been back in time, causing Enobaria to go seek her out. The only Victor who never wrote down their schedule was herself. If Katniss died under the _attentions_ of a client, so be it- better that than return downstairs and continue living this life. Ignoring the blank line with her name written in Annie's careful handwriting, she checked who else wasn't working tonight. Finnick and Enobaria, of course, and her heart thumped when she saw another blank space.

Inhaling slowly, Katniss cleared her throat and hesitated all but a minute before turning around and walking to Peeta's door, where she knocked before letting her nerves get the better of her.

Peeta opened the door straight away, and his eyes immediately met hers.

For the first time in four years, Katniss came face to face with her fellow Victor, and her breath was knocked out of her lungs.

He looked so similar, and yet so different. The pretty boy had grown into a handsome man. He wasn't tall, but still, she had to raise her eyes slightly to meet his- eyes so pure and blue that she could spend hours drowning in them. His face was masculine, but there was something slightly aristocratic about his traits, be it the slender nose or the full lips. His wavy, ash-blonde hair was soft. He was still the boy Katniss had _almost_ fallen in love with in the arena.

There was a short silence, then she swallowed thickly.

“Can I...can I talk to you?”

He watched her closely, face carefully guarded, seemingly warring with something internally. He wanted to slam the door in her face- that much was obvious. However, after a while, jaw clenched, he opened it completely to let her pass. She wondered why. Had Haymitch told him that she wanted to make amends, and on his orders with that?

Katniss cast a glance around her. The bedroom was similar to her own, down to the colour of the bedsheets, but there was something different about his, and as her eyes took in the walls, she realized what. Her own bedroom hadn't changed in four years. There was nothing there to indicate the room was inhabited.

Peeta's, however, was more personalized. There were a few photos on the wall above the desk- she recognized his two brothers, grinning at the camera, his father baking bread, but none of his mother. She also noticed, with a pinch of the heart, photos of other people- there was one of Haymitch, drunk and half-falling from a sofa where he was napping, and one with Portia and Cinna laughing while Effie rolled her eyes. There was one with Finnick and Annie kissing, one with Johanna licking the blade of a butter knife while making a fake fierce face, one with Gloss and Cashmere hugging Enobaria while she sported a cheeky smirk. There were several with all of the Victors, Peeta included, sitting in the garden behind Victory Hall, having a picnic. She was absent, of course. She didn't even know they'd done that.

On the other walls were paintings. There was one of the Mellark bakery back in 12, and one of the District Room where all the Victors save her were draping over the sofas and armchairs. There was one of the Meadow next to the Seam, complete with the stream looking so real she could almost see the fish jumping in and out of it. There were others she didn't recognize.

Peeta cleared his throat behind her as he shut the door and she turned around, meeting his eyes once again. Now that she was here, she didn't know where to begin, and her fastly beating heart didn't help matters.

“Peeta,” she muttered, feeling the sudden urge to occupy her hands, and feeling the blush cover her cheeks slightly.

“Katniss,” he returned coolly, leaning against the door, hands in his trouser pockets. He didn't seem in the slightest affected by her presence. His eyes, however, shone with something that she could only describe as disdain. Clenching her jaw, she wrung her hands together.

“I talked to Haymitch,” she said suddenly. Peeta didn't seem impressed.

“So I've heard,” he answered coldly before raising an eyebrow. “He thought you'd forgotten his name.”

She flinched slightly.

“I suppose I deserve that,” she muttered. He didn't answer. “Look, Peeta, I...I wanted to talk to you.”

She hoped her eyes conveyed the message. Not here. Not in a bugged room. He chuckled, the sound low and slightly dangerous, and she knew that he understood.

He wasn't playing _her_ game, however.

“Four years, Katniss,” he answered, voice clear. “It's been four years. I tried, remember? Many times. I wanted nothing else but to talk to you. So did the others.” He pushed himself away from the door, stopping a foot from her. She could feel his cool, minty breath against her skin and shivered. “But you pushed us away, Katniss.”

“I just-”

“Your excuses, or justifications, or whatever they may be,” he interrupted with a somewhat stern glance, “are of no importance. I don't want to hear them, not after all this time. No one does. Especially since they're not sincere. They're not yours. They're Haymitch's.”

“He told you,” she muttered, blushing again in slight shame.

“He didn't need to,” Peeta scoffed, running a hand through his hair. She followed the gesture with wide eyes, fascinated. “I know Haymitch well. I know how he operates. I don't think he managed to get you to see the errors of your ways, either- you're just here out of curiosity, aren't you, Katniss?”

She shuddered. He was right, of course, but Peeta had always been when it came down to these things- people were open books to him.

“Peeta, _please_ ,” she gasped, hating the idea that it may come across as begging. “We need to talk.”

“I don't think so,” he replied coolly. “There is no _we_ , Katniss. I waited long enough. I'm no longer that heartbroken boy with the bread, you know?”

Something about that made fury rise in her chest. That he was over her was only natural after four years of her ignoring him completely. But to deny what brought them together in the first place, to deny him saving her life after her father's death, made her angrier than she'd been in years.

“You will always be the boy with the bread,” she hissed, voice so cold his eyebrows rose slightly.

“I'd have saved myself a lot of suffering if I'd given that bread to the pig,” he whispered, and she felt her blood run cold.

“Fuck you, Peeta,” she spat, suddenly itching to slap him.

“ _There's_ the Girl on Fire,” he answered, voice mocking. “As for the rest, I don't remember us ever _fucking_. I'd say yes to your offer, but you're a backstabber through and through, and I'm not risking my life over something I can do without.”

He smirked at her then. Katniss closed her eyes and counted to five, trying to contain her anger.

“Do you think that I'm the Capitol's good girl too?” she ended up asking.

He eyed her warily.

“I don't know what to think about you anymore, Katniss. Truth be told, I don't even think that much about you, at all. You were once the Mockingjay. What are you now?”

Mindful of the bugs, Katniss stared at him.

“I'm a Victor,” she muttered, hoping he'd catch the meaning.

_I'm on your side. I don't know what's going on here, but I don't belong to the Capitol._

His eyes narrowed, and she knew he understood. However, she also knew he wasn't convinced. Before she could add anything, he backed away slightly.

“Better get some beauty sleep,” he advised her. “Goodnight, Katniss.”

She didn't answer and slipped out of his room without a word, feeling frustrated. She'd come looking for answers, and only left with more questions. The man she'd just talked to wasn't _her_ Peeta. _Her_ Peeta was sweet, caring, forgiving. Had the Capitol changed him to this point? Had Victory Hall scarred him as much as it had her? Could she have prevented him from changing if she'd remained by his side instead of pushing him away?

But was that really Peeta Mellark? Did his cold disdain only apply to her? She'd seen him with the other Victors. Smiling. Chatting. Laughing. _That_ was the Peeta she knew. And he didn't want her to see him that way anymore.

Frustrated, she grabbed the holophone as soon as she entered her room, and a moment later, Haymitch's face appeared. He looked tired, she noticed, and he was nursing a bottle of white liquor- _of course he was_.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled as soon as he picked up. “Would you look at that. After four years of silence, Katniss Everdeen calls home twice in four days.”

She glared at him.

“Hello, Haymitch.”

“Hello indeed, Katniss. How're you doing?”

There was a long silence after that as she stared at her shoes. Katniss didn't know how she was doing. For that matter, she didn't even know why she was calling. Her mentor's chuckling finally made her raise her head again.

“Guess it isn't easy finding your words after all this time, sweetheart,” he tutted. “So, how're things going in Victory Hall?”

“Business as usual,” she responded, wondering for a moment if she should talk to him about Johanna's visit to the Mansion. He nodded, and she continued, “I, um. I tried to talk to him.”

She didn't need to give any more precisions. Haymitch's eyes twinkled.

“Bet that went well, given that you look like something the cat dragged out of the gutter,” he retorted, waving away her outrage with a thud of the bottle against the table in front of him. “Told you, sweetheart. That boy was desperately in love with you and you went and broke his heart. What did you think, that he was going to forgive you for abandoning him when he needed you the most? That he'd kiss you on the cheeks and you'd have a song and dance, bake some rainbow bread and make love atop a pink unicorn?”

“Stop talking about him as though I owed him something,” Katniss spat, exasperated by his antics. “You knew full well that I wasn't in love with him. You planned out the star-crossed lovers act with him without telling me. It wasn't an act on his part- I can't help that!”

“Sweetheart,” Haymitch interrupted, leaning forward, face pinched in quiet anger. “You do owe him. Your life, at least, if nothing else.”

“Wh- I saved him in the arena!”

“And he saved you,” Haymitch reminded her. “He teamed up with the Careers to protect you. When the double Victor rule was revoked, he was willing to die to save you. He killed that girl from District 8 because he knew he had to play the part, and it destroyed him. He gave his soul to protect you, sweetheart- something no one else in this world would have done for you.”

Her mouth snapped shut, and she struggled against the guilt threatening to overwhelm her. Peeta had saved her life. As she had his.

“You were shit at playing the star-crossed lover,” Haymitch added. “Had it not been for Peeta, you wouldn't have gotten half the sponsor aid you did, and you'd be buried somewhere in 12 right now.”

“He saved me,” she muttered. “And I saved him. The debt is paid.”

Haymitch clearly wanted to answer that, but he seemed to rethink his words and simply stated,

“I warned you this wouldn't be easy. Peeta won't be forgiving. Not that easily, at least. You're going to have to make efforts, Katniss. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm down to my last bottle and I'd rather drink it in peace than have you whining like a scorned teenager all night.”

Before she could answer, furious, the call disconnected. Katniss vowed right then to never call Haymitch again- knowing full well that she would break that vow.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go! Still painful seeing Peeta and Katniss interact, I know. But, from now on, things are going to start changing. Will update new chapter in a couple of days! Thanks for your support.


	6. The Arrest

…

Annie was, of all the Victors present at the Hall, the kindest, sweetest one. Although some of the others may, in Katniss' eyes, show kindness on occasion, it was Annie's true nature. Annie had won her Games by accident- being the best swimmer and the only tribute to survive the flooding of the arena decided by the Gamemakers. She had never taken a life with her own hands, which made her something of a novelty in Victory Hall. She was broken in her own way, of course, but at least, in Katniss' eyes, her soul was still pure. Complete. Even Peeta had taken lives. Katniss suspected that if push came to shove, Annie Cresta would be entirely unable to kill. Maybe that innocence was the reason why Finnick loved her so much.

All the Victors seemed to agree on one thing- Annie was to be protected. They couldn't protect her against everything- against the prostitution and the nightmares and the pain- but they tried. Katniss would never admit to it, but she herself had, on occasion, accepted to work on her nights off to spare Annie, when the pretty redhead was the only other person off the grid and a last-minute client called.

All of this also meant that Annie was the person who Katniss had decided to approach first, since things had gone so wrong with Peeta. She sussed the redhead out one evening when neither of them were working, and found her sitting in a sofa in the District Room, an open book in her lap, although she seemed to pay no attention to it, her gaze lost in the flickering flames in the fireplace.

Katniss coughed softly, a warning, and Annie's head snapped up. The young woman smiled gently at her. Four years of silence, and yet Annie didn't seem to mind. She never changed. She was always her usual, sweet self.

“Hi,” Katniss muttered, unsure of how to proceed.

“Hi, Katniss,” Annie answered happily, before patting the sofa. “Want to keep me company?”

Katniss raised a brow in surprise, but nevertheless crossed the room and sat primly by Annie's side. She supposed she shouldn't be shocked, but Annie's invitation sounded like this was routine, instead of the first time they'd ever remained in the same room by choice. Katniss bit her lip, wondering how to engage her fellow Victor, and Annie, after a moment's silence, helped her.

“Have you ever read any of the books in the Arena Room?”

“I can't say I have,” Katniss admitted, eyes settling on the book in Annie's lap. “Am I missing out?”

“Not on the _books_ , at any rate,” Annie replied, laughing softly, and Katniss' instincts thrummed- Annie was telling her that indeed, _things_ were going on in the Arena Room despite her absence. “ _The History of Panem_ , as seen by the Capitol. Of course, it's very different from the way we districteers see it.”

“I can imagine,” Katniss answered, eyeing the book with distaste. “I don't need to read the propaganda in there.”

“Yes, I guess we have enough of that,” Annie muttered. “I'm not reading, not really. I'm just waiting for Finnick to get back.”

Katniss' heart twinged slightly, and she gazed at the redhead.

“Is this what you do when he's working and you're not?” she asked gently. “Wait for him?”

“Most of the time,” Annie admitted. “It's not like I have anything else to do. And he'll need me when he returns. He always does.” She sighed, eyes lost in the fireplace again. “I suppose this is why you rejected Peeta, isn't it? Better to forget your own feelings for him rather than share him with the Capitolites.”

Katniss swallowed thickly.

“The relationship was all for show, Annie. It was for the Games.”

“I saw your Games,” Annie smiled. “Mandatory viewing and all. He wasn't pretending, though, was he? And I doubt that you were, either. At least not entirely. But I suppose you're sick of hearing that when all you want to do is forget.”

Katniss stared at her in wonder. Something went terribly wrong with Annie after her Games. Sometimes, she started screaming out of nowhere. The smallest things could trigger her, such as hearing a shower flowing. Katniss wondered, however, why Annie had a reputation of craziness- she wasn't half mad, she was simply suffering, and she also turned out to be incredibly in tune with Katniss' thoughts and beliefs.

“I imagine most couples would expect sexual fidelity, but we aren't allowed that luxury,” Annie stated after a while. “So what we have instead is emotional fidelity. The bond is stronger, somehow. Our bodies do not belong to each other, but our souls do, and no amount of prostitution can change that. I am his and he is mine.”

Katniss suddenly felt her eyes brim with tears.

“You should be able to expect sexual fidelity, too,” she murmured, and Annie smiled again.

“Somehow, the situation has made our bond stronger, Katniss,” she explained. “I don't know how to describe it, but...I know that this is 'til death do us part, truly.”

“But aren't you jealous?”

“I would be if I could afford to. I'm not jealous, though- _he has no choice_. And neither do I. I suffer with him, for him, in spite of him, as he does for me.”

“I'm sorry, Annie.”

“Don't be,” Annie chuckled. “You're not the Capitol, Katniss. You're not President Snow. None of this is your fault. And I just wanted to let you know that I understand why you rejected us. It is hard to see _us_ for what _you_ are.”

Katniss blinked as Annie's mouth twisted in thought.

“I also understand,” she continued after a while, “why you're trying to make amends. And I don't think, as Peeta seems to, that it's entirely because of your mentor's advice. I think you've wanted to get closer to us for a while, but you didn't know how to proceed.”

Something about the pretty redhead- her soft voice, or her understanding of Katniss' situation, or the fact that she herself had a romantic interest in one of their comrades- coaxed the truth out of Katniss, almost despite herself.

“It's been hard,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “To suffer...to have clients and no-one to help me back on my feet when I've been shoved down. To have no-one but the doctors patch my wounds when I needed medical aid. To have no-one to hold after spending a night in one of the rooms upstairs...”

Annie nodded, face pinched in something that resembled pity. But Katniss knew that it wasn't. The Victors didn't pity each other- they were all in the same situation.

“I've never been proud like you,” she replied. “I had no trouble asking for help.” She glanced at Katniss, smiling again. “We all knew it would be hard for you, when you arrived. Peeta begged us to help you. But you kept us at arm's length, and you can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved.” Her fingers tapped against the open book, her touch as gentle as her voice. As her soul. “No-one hates you, Katniss. That may be a start.”

Katniss couldn't help scoffing at that.

“Johanna does.”

“Johanna doesn't,” Annie shook her head. “She's pissed at you, though. Peeta...we all fell in love with him so quickly. Mere hours after your arrival, the both of you, he was ours. And we all saw him go through hell when you began ignoring him. Johanna loves Peeta as much as anyone. They got along so well that he confided in her every single day, every single pain your rejection put him through. She doesn't hate you, Katniss, but she's so protective of him that she's still angry with you three years after he finally declared he was over you.”

That made Katniss pause. _Anger_ , not _hatred_.

“How do you know that?”

“I've known Johanna for years, Katniss. If she hated you, you'd be dead by now, no matter the punishment for her.”

Katniss stared into the fireplace for a while, her thoughts jumbled.

“Haymitch wants me to become friends with you. All of you.”

“I've always liked Haymitch Abernathy,” Annie admitted with a short giggle. “He's a good man. A good man who has had bad things happen to him, like all of us. His advice is solid. But if you decide to start over with us, Katniss, the Victors will be expecting honesty from you.”

Katniss inhaled sharply.

“You want me to grovel.”

“See, you say you want to make amends, yet you act as though you were being punished by all of this. I'd say that you've punished us enough for sins we haven't committed, wouldn't you?”

“Sorry,” Katniss muttered, brushing a tendril of dark hair away from her eyes. “You...you all look like...a family. And I have no place in that unit.”

“We _are_ a family,” Annie said. “And no, you have no place in that unit. But you _could_ , Katniss. It's all up to you.”

The door opened suddenly, and Finnick staggered in, having apparently just finished work. His eyes brushed over Katniss as though he didn't see her and landed on Annie. She rose immediately, lost in the call of his presence, tossing the book on a side table. It was as though Katniss didn't exist anymore- the two had eyes only for each other, and she suddenly realized what Annie meant when she said that Finnick needed her after finishing work.

The pain- complete, utter, and unbridled- in Finnick's eyes took her breath away.

Annie reached him, her hand coiling around his arm, and he stared at her, clearly not quite present.

“Come back to me,” Annie whispered as she began leading her lover out of the door. “Come back to me, my love.”

Then they were gone, and Katniss blinked back tears. Finnick- proud, funny, happy-go-lucky Finnick Odair- was destroyed by this lifestyle, to the point where he needed Annie's touch to be able to simply return to the world of the living.

And as she expected, it broke her heart. Because she _knew_ that look. It was the one she sported herself when she returned from a client's bed. This was why she'd kept the Victors at arm's length. Because this was what she meant when she said that _they were her_. Such suffering should not exist, and how could she bear to see this on a daily basis?

But Finnick had Annie. She had no-one. Finnick always returned to his proper self. She never did, not quite. She pretended. Despite Peeta and Johanna's accusations, she'd learned how to act.

Haymitch was right. It would be easier to suffer together instead of alone. She could bring comfort if it meant that she in turn found comfort, or vice versa.

The Victors were still living, whilst she was dead inside. And it all came down to this.

Suddenly, the need to be part of them was overwhelming. Her own family would never understand, even if they knew. But these people could help her. And maybe she could help them.

Inside her chest, long-dimmed embers flared to flames. In her eye, a mockingjay unfurled its wings. Maybe this was her fight now- fight to live, not fight to survive. She knew fighting. That, she could do.

The door opened again and Johanna stalked in, a bottle of white liquor in her hand- the bar in the kitchen was always well-stocked at night, when the Victors returned from work, but the alcohol disappeared in the morning, certainly so that they wouldn't get drunk before attending to clients in the evening. She was muttering something, and she stopped and did a double-take when she noticed Katniss sitting on the sofa. Her eyes widened, then narrowed, and she slouched down next to her, popping the bottle open and taking several huge gulps.

“So, you're out and about,” Johanna scowled. “Did Snow let you off your lead a bit for being such a good girl?”

“Shut it, Mason,” Katniss snapped in return.

Johanna merely grinned, eyes unfocused. Katniss frowned. Surely, she hadn't had that much to drink already? Then, Johanna handed her the bottle.

“No thanks,” Katniss replied steadily. “I didn't work tonight.”

“You never drink anyway,” Johanna snickered. “I've noticed.” She took another life-saving gulp and belched. “So, why aren't you locked up in your room tonight?”

“I was talking to Annie,” Katniss answered, shrugging. What was it to her, anyway? Johanna's eyebrow quirked.

“Good to see that you're listening to Haymitch, at least,” Johanna snarked. “It's pissing Peeta off a bit, you know. That you ignored him for a whole year before he stopped trying, but one call to your mentor is all it takes for you to jump in line.”

Katniss rolled her eyes, and on an impulse, grabbed the bottle, taking a healthy swig. She'd need it to deal with Johanna. The other woman whooped in delight, before snagging the bottle again.

“I ignored Haymitch as well,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, try saying that to a boy in love,” Johanna chuckled coolly.

“Peeta is not in love with me.”

“Yeah, try saying that to a girl who gives a shit about what you think.”

Katniss all but ripped the bottle from Johanna's lips, ignoring the woman's cackle.

“Well, there goes the Mockingjay, lost for good,” Johanna laughed as Katniss drank. “Though I suppose that there are worse ways to go than alcohol poisoning.”

They were now trading the bottle back and forth, and surprisingly, Katniss found some sort of peace at the situation.

“So, what were you and sweet Annie talking about?”

Katniss paused, handing her the bottle before answering,

“Friendship.”

“Going to give it a try, are you?”

Katniss almost said no- it had become second nature to shy away from them, as though they were poisonous. But Annie had said that they expected honesty.

“Yes,” she admitted quietly.

“Oh boy, Peeta is going to be _so_ pissed,” Johanna stated with a maniacal grin. “He's tried his hardest to shut you out and you're just going to come waltzing back into his life again. My, my. Well, just so you know, Mockingjay- if you make amends, fine. You do you. But you hurt that boy again?”

Johanna leaned forward suddenly, face lethal. Katniss merely raised a brow. Johanna didn't scare her.

“I'll take a fucking knife to your gut myself,” Johanna hissed, and Katniss knew she wasn't joking.

She nodded, opening her mouth to speak, but the door slammed open suddenly, and four Peacekeepers entered the room, surrounding them. One grabbed Johanna, another the bottle, tossing it against the wall, another trained his automatic gun on Katniss, and the fourth held the door.

“What-”

Katniss tried to stand, but a sudden dizziness overcame her, forcing her back down, and she had only a brief moment to regret her drinking before Johanna- clearly inebriated and struggling- was whisked out of the room, the four Peacekeepers still surrounding her, and all of a sudden, she was alone again. She heard Johanna yell incoherently and Annie scream,

“Fin! Fin! They're arresting Jo!”

And then it was quiet again as the elevator doors closed, and Katniss, stunned, sat, mouth open, staring at the door.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go! Hope you liked it. Will update soon!


	7. Speculation

…

Katniss remained on the sofa, eyes wide and heart beating wildly, for a minute before all hell broke loose. Finnick, with Annie in tow, barged into the District Room, and a minute later both Cashmere- still off due to her injuries- and Enobaria, still dressed in skimpy gold lingerie, filed in as well.

“What the everlasting _fuck_?” Finnick swore loudly, hands skimming through his dark blonde locks. His eyes landed on Katniss, and she noticed that whatever pain lurking there a few minutes before was gone. “Katniss, what the hell happened?”

“I...I don't know,” she answered truthfully, fingers threading through her own hair, as frustrated and surprised as he was. “We were sitting here, talking and having a drink, and all of a sudden the Peacekeepers came and took her away...”

Finnick swore again, and Cashmere's eyebrows rose.

“Am I missing something?” she asked no-one in particular. “Katniss Everdeen talking to, and having a drink with, Johanna Mason? Katniss Everdeen _having a drink_ , for that matter?”

“Now is _really_ not the time, Cash,” Annie warned, voice soft as ever.

Cashmere shrugged, eyes trained on Katniss.

“I don't know what happened,” Katniss repeated.

“Shit, this can't be good,” Finnick barked. “So soon after being called to President Snow's Mansion?”

“I don't know what happened there,” Enobaria stated, turning to Finnick. “Johanna didn't say.”

“Maybe she told Peeta?” Annie suggested. “Those two are thick as thieves.”

“I doubt it,” Enobaria shook her head. “No-one ever talks about that. I've never been. Actually, I believe Johanna's the only one.”

“True,” Annie confirmed. “It would have helped that-”

“What the fuck is going on here?”

Katniss' eyes snapped towards the door, where Peeta and Gloss had made an appearance. She swallowed thickly, noticing Peeta's strained voice. When did he get so close to Johanna Mason? There was no denying the worry in his eyes, however. Those beautiful blue eyes of his, so cold when he'd looked at her in his bedroom...had Johanna replaced her in his heart?

Something burned through her at that, something she didn't recognize but settled in the pit of her stomach, thick and acidic.

“Johanna was arrested a moment ago,” Finnick explained, frowning. “Do you know what happened at President Snow's Mansion the other day, Peeta?”

“Not a thing,” Peeta answered regretfully.

He made his way to the sofa, ignoring Katniss, and sat next to her. Her breath caught in her throat. This was the first time in years he'd willingly remained by her side.

_As had she_.

“Well, what now?” Gloss asked, and Katniss noticed the worried glances they were sending Peeta, as though the news of Johanna's arrest would cause a meltdown on his part. Her heart twinged slightly at the thought.

“Now, we wait,” Annie murmured.

They exchanged glances. Once again, Katniss felt as though she didn't belong here, with them, discussing Johanna's fate. She felt the sudden urge to melt back into her shell, to protect herself against the worry washing over the group. And after all, she'd spoken with both Annie and Johanna tonight- the longest conversations she'd ever had with her fellow Victors- and she felt wrung out. Maybe the alcohol played a part, as well- she'd been well on her way to getting drunk for the first time in her life before the Peacekeepers had barged in.

She stood, feeling somewhat woozy, and straightened herself. Finnick raised an eyebrow at her.

“Are you _drunk_ , sweet little Kitty Cat?”

She ground her teeth.

“Call me sweet little Kitty Cat again, Odair, and I'll-”

“What? Throw up all over me?” he guffawed, eyes still worried.

“Oh, shut up,” she grunted, rubbing her forehead. “I'm not drunk.”

“More's the pity,” Finnick sighed. “At least we could have had some fun while waiting for Jo.”

“What if-”

“ _Don't_ , Gloss,” Cashmere interrupted her brother with a stern glance. “Please don't.”

“These things have to be said, Cash,” Gloss retorted sadly. “What if Johanna _doesn't_ come back?”

“She will,” Annie said fiercely. “She has to. She's one of Snow's best, ah, employees. He can't...”

“It all depends on why she was arrested.”

All eyes turned to Katniss, and she blushed slightly. They weren't used to her participating in the conversation, but she guessed now was as good a time as ever. So she returned their stares, gazing them down one after the other.

“I suppose no-one here has an inkling of an idea?”

Finnick and Gloss frowned at her, and she didn't miss the swift glance Enobaria and Cashmere exchanged. Annie's face was the very picture of innocence, and she didn't turn around to look at Peeta, still sprawled over the sofa behind her. Once again, she realized that yes, they were hiding something from her. She knew the room was bugged, but maybe, just maybe, one of them would suggest they use the Arena Room. Maybe they'd explain things to her.

“No,” Finnick finally answered, “not at all.”

Her heart missed a beat. They were bad liars, the lot of them. She wondered how they managed to convince their clients that they were having the time of their lives, as she so often had to do. So she stared at Finnick, face blank, letting him know he hadn't fooled her. He stared right back, before squaring his shoulders and repeating a simple, _no_.

“Well then,” Katniss declared sweetly. “I suppose it can't be that bad.”

She noticed Enobaria gritting her teeth, as though wanting to correct her assumption. But the dark-skinned woman merely relaxed after a few beats, and Katniss frowned.

“I have a call to make,” Peeta stated suddenly, making her jump, and she turned to him as he rose from the sofa, ignoring her.

“I'm coming with you,” Cashmere said, and Peeta nodded.

“Me too,” Enobaria declared, but Finnick shook his head, pointing at the holophone sitting on a side table, the one they'd used to call the surgeon for Cashmere a few days ago.

“Might as well call from here,” he said. “That's a conversation we all want to follow.”

Peeta froze in his steps, staring at Finnick, and he shook his head. Finnick's brows rose instantly. Peeta frowned. Finnick clucked his tongue.

Katniss watched the silent conversation unfold uncomfortably, then Peeta sighed.

“Fine,” he begrudged, stalking over to the holophone and pushing a button. “Haymitch Abernathy.”

The holophone rang twice before Haymitch appeared, nuzzling a bottle of white liquor.

“Peeta,” he grunted, although Katniss didn't miss the delight in his eyes. Haymitch adored Peeta, she reminded herself. He didn't seem half as content whenever Katniss called. Her mentor's eyes flickered over the group, landing on Katniss last, and he choked mid-sip, brows shooting up.

“Well, well,” he declared. “Hello, gang. And Katniss.”

She ignored the way he seemed to exclude her from the group, and crossed her arms on her chest.

“Haymitch,” she drawled in return. “Nice to see you sober, for once.”

He laughed at that, eyes twinkling, and raised his bottle in salute.

“Nice to see you, _point blank_ , sweetheart,” he answered, before his face contorted into a serious expression. “Now, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“It's Johanna,” Peeta said, voice calm although his features were strained with worry. “The Peacekeepers came tonight.”

Haymitch froze. Then, he rose his bottle to his lips, taking a long gulp.

“I suppose it was a question of time, after Gloss' little speech,” he declared, eyes sharp. “Do we know anything yet?”

“Nothing,” Finnick replied, stepping up to Peeta. “Johanna was in here having a drink with Katniss. Came and took her without a word.”

“With Katniss?” Haymitch looked surprised. “Sweetheart, what were you talking about?”

Katniss felt all eyes on her and had to physically restrain from wincing.

“Nothing in particular,” she answered, and Haymitch shook his head, frowning.

“Look, Katniss, I know you're a secretive person and all, but this isn't about you,” he snapped. “Your answer could mean the difference between life and death for Johanna, so you'd better get talking.”

She bristled at the barely concealed threat.

“I meant it when I said nothing in particular, Haymitch,” she growled.

“You may think that it was nothing, but the Capitol may not see things in the same light,” Haymitch stated frostily. “What were you talking about?”

Katniss stifled a sigh.

“We were drinking,” she muttered. “Johanna was having a laugh at my expense about my unusual drinking behaviour...” Finnick chuckled at that, and Haymitch's lips twitched in amusement. “And we were talking about...about Peeta.”

For the first time, Peeta turned to her, slowly. She felt her face burn and ignored him, feeling his eyes on her face, watching her closely.

“Ah,” Haymitch said. “And what exactly about Peeta?”

“Johanna was saying how pissed he was at me,” Katniss muttered, feeling somewhat humiliated by the whole situation. “That I'd tried talking to him because of your advice and not out of the bottom of my heart. At least in _his_ opinion.” She heard Peeta's sharp intake of breath and chose to not dwell on it. She'd look for hidden meanings later.

“And that's it?” Haymitch asked, voice doubtful.

“That's it,” she confirmed, plucking at a stray thread of cotton on her shirt.

There was a short silence.

“Well it can't be about _that_ ,” Annie interfered and Katniss felt herself breathe. “President Snow barely cares about our personal relationships, as long as we do as we're told.”

She glanced at Finnick, and he smiled softly at her and grabbed her hand.

“Yes, I think this is more about Gloss' outburst,” Enobaria said thoughtfully.

“But why not arrest Gloss, then? Why Johanna?” Cashmere asked.

“Johanna isn't exactly foot-in-mouth,” Finnick reminded them, making several Victors chuckle. “Maybe she said things too.”

“We still don't know what happened when she was called to the President's Mansion,” Enobaria stated. “And without that information, we can only speculate.”

“I agree,” Haymitch said. “For all we know, it has nothing to do with any of that. Maybe she upset a client. Maybe something happened in District 7 and she's being held responsible. We don't know and we won't until Johanna returns.”

There was a short silence, the only sound being Haymitch's drunken slurps as he drank and Annie audibly chewing on her lip in worry.

“Tell you what, kids,” Haymitch finally said, pointing a finger at them. “You'll have to wait and see.”

“That's helpful,” Peeta huffed.

The older man glared at him.

“If I have information, I'll call,” Haymitch answered after a while. “In the meantime, you'd better get back to whatever it is you're supposed to be doing right now. Finnick, you look like shit, by the way. Go have a nap or something.”

He disconnected the call immediately, without bidding them farewell, and Gloss rolled his eyes.

“Haymitch is right,” he sighed. “There's nothing we can do for now.”

He stalked out of the room, followed by his sister, then by Enobaria and Annie. Finnick stretched, knuckles cracking.

“I'm off to bed,” he told no-one in particular, before leaving as well.

Katniss hesitated, turning to Peeta, but he was still staring at the holophone, looking troubled. He didn't acknowledge her presence and she decided to leave him be. He wouldn't want her help, not now.

She didn't manage to sleep, not with Johanna's screams in her head, and spent the day alone, locked in her room. She only left it to grab a couple of bananas before her shift in the evening and met her client with heavy makeup, designed to hide her obvious fatigue.

Johanna didn't appear the next day either. The Hall seemed somewhat subdued without her angry presence, and the Victors spoke amongst them in hushed tones. Katniss decided that she wasn't needed nor desired and spent most of the day on the rooftop. She was grateful that she'd only been bought for an hour and a half that night.

On the third day, Katniss returned from her client at three in the morning. She felt broken and tired, but she didn't say a word as she sailed past the District Room where several other Victors sat playing cards or talking softly, heading for her bedroom, in desperate need of a shower. The elevator doors opened at the other end of the corridor, and she stopped, watching with widened eyes as Johanna appeared.

The woman glanced at her, eyes hooded, and took a few steps forward, out of the elevator. Katniss noticed her slight limp and the way she seemed to flinch in the harsh corridor light. Johanna, however, didn't stop to salute her. Instead, she shot into the District Room- Katniss clearly heard the brief shouts of surprise and Finnick's delighted whooping- and then, the Victors left the room, marching down the corridor towards the Arena Room, deliberately ignoring her. They filed in behind Johanna, and Cashmere shut the door behind them.

Katniss blinked.

Now _that_ hurt.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go! Hope you enjoyed it. Not quite the Victors-blaming-Katniss several of you suspected, but a clear lack of trust. Anyway, starting next chapter, the action is really picking up.  
> Just a note- a few of you seem unhappy with the way Peeta is described in this fic. I don't believe in people letting others walk all over them, but if that's what you like, then go ahead and read something more to your taste. In this fic, Katniss actually has to answer to her behaviour- shocker! If you'd rather she gets her way at every turn, I'm certain that you can find better fics to read than this one, and if not, the Fanfiction community always welcomes new writers. I don't think that I'm rude when I say that this is my fic, my playground, and I do whatever pleases me. Constructive criticism is very welcome- but this isn't quite constructive. Everyone is entitled to their opinion, naturally, but don't read this fic if you're going to fight me every time Peeta opens his mouth because frankly, you're bothering yourself more than me. Reading is supposed to be a pleasant activity and remember that everything the authors write, we write for free. We don't expect to be popular with everyone, but I'm not going to spend my time trying to please those who aren't happy with the way things are written. Peeta's character isn't going to change. The outline of each chapter is already written, and I might tweak things slightly as I go, but I'm not modifying the basic content- the characters, their relationships, etc.  
> So there you go. Next chapter up soon!


	8. White Petals, Dark News

…

Katniss rubbed her bare arms, trying to ignore the cool bite of the nightly wind against her skin as she gazed into the distance. She was on the rooftop again, and all she could think about was the other Victors, having a private meeting several floors down, without her. For the first time, she actually felt rejected, and the least she could say was that it wasn't pleasant.

Is that how the others had felt when she'd arrived at Victory Hall, throwing their offers of friendship back in their faces? Is that how Peeta had felt when she'd refused to even say hello in the morning?

The door to the rooftop opened and she frowned into the distance. Whoever it was, now was not the time. The humiliation still made her cheeks burn.

She heard calm, collected steps, and someone pulled up beside her. She'd planned on ignoring them, but something- a scent- made her eyes widen and her heart beat in fear. Her head snapped to the side as she inhaled a whiff of roses.

President Snow was smiling down at her, eyes twinkling but face cold.

She took a step back, glancing around. What was he doing here, on the Hall rooftop, when her fellow Victors were having a private meeting in the Arena Room? She saw him sometimes at the parties she was forced to attend, but this was entirely different.

“Miss Everdeen,” he said gracefully. “Fine evening, wouldn't you say? Although maybe a bit too chilly to be spending the evening outdoors in such clothing.”

His eyes lurked briefly over her bare arms as she stared at him.

“Now, Miss Everdeen,” he tutted after a short silence. “I believe your seclusion within Victory Hall has not made you forget about elementary politeness.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“Good evening, President Snow,” she answered carefully. He smiled.

“There you go,” he said, bringing a silk handkerchief to his mouth. She caught another whiff of roses, and it sickened her to the core. “I don't think I've ever had the opportunity to congratulate you, Miss Everdeen. Your clients are most content with your services. And that, in turn, makes _me_ most content.”

She didn't know what to say, so she kept her mouth shut.

“Now,” Snow straightened himself, turning to look at her. “You and I are old friends, are we not, Miss Everdeen?”

She shivered at that. There was no mistaking the threat in his cold blue eyes.

“Friends,” she replied in a clipped tone. “Is that what this is called these days?”

He chuckled, wiping his mouth again.

“So much better than enemies, wouldn't you agree?” He didn't wait for an answer. “I like to consider us friends, indeed. Because friends have nothing to hide from each other, _do they_ , my dear?”

She shivered again. The stench of roses was overwhelming.

“What are you doing here?” she asked bluntly, ignoring his appraising glance.

“I don't believe that I have to answer to _you_ ,” he smiled. “I am the President of Panem, dear girl. My comings and goings are as I please. And, after all, I like to think of politics as business. Isn't it natural for a businessman to make certain that his _personal_ _interests_ are cared for?”

She squared her shoulders.

“I would have thought that the bugs within the Hall told you all you need to know about your _personal interests_ , sir,” she replied coldly. “I fail to see the necessity of your visit.”

“Actually, I was seeing dear Miss Mason back home,” he corrected with a sharp grin. “It seems that her arrest was a... _mistake_. I am quite unhappy with my Chief Peacekeeper at this time.”

Fully aware that she was treading dangerous waters, Katniss bit her lip.

“Whatever your information was, sir, I trust that her arrest was indeed a mistake.”

“Ah, Miss Everdeen...quite the cautious creature, aren't you?” He chuckled again, bringing his handkerchief to his lips once more. “But you _do_ know why she was arrested in the first place, don't you, my dear?”

Katniss shook her head truthfully.

“I don't.”

“Now, Miss Everdeen...remember when I visited your lovely home before your Victory Tour? I recall rather clearly that we'd both agreed to never lie to each other.”

The threat hung in the air, thick and poisonous, and Katniss swallowed with great difficulty. They were touching onto the reason for his visit, she knew as much, and just like four years ago, she felt her stomach twist in fear. She refused to let it show, however, and kept her face carefully neutral.

“We did indeed.”

“Good,” Snow clapped his hands together, visibly delighted with her answer, and she flinched. “Now, my dear girl...Johanna Mason refused to give up anything. I had no choice but to release her to Victory Hall. She is, after all, one of my best employees...her clients were asking after her. Would be a shame to deprive myself of her earnings whilst I know...we _both_ know, you and I...that deep down, _she_ is not responsible for any of this, don't we?”

Katniss frowned.

“I don't understand, sir-”

“Do not lie to me!” he screamed, and she jumped in her skin, eyes wide. As fast as his anger had appeared, it evaporated, leaving him as cool and collected as usual. “The districts, Miss Everdeen, the _districts_. Tell me what you know.”

“I haven't stepped foot out of the Capitol in four years,” she replied, confused.

“Do not play me for a fool, girl,” he sneered, all pretense at playing nice gone. “You've been plotting with the rebels, haven't you?”

“The...the rebels? Sir, I-”

“Miss Everdeen,” he interrupted, his green, snake-like eyes raking over her face agressively. “Do you remember, last time we had a little chat?”

“In Victory Village,” she deadpanned, trying to quell the rising anger and fear in her chest. “Before the Tour.”

“Yes, Miss Everdeen. And what did I ask you at the time?”

“To pretend to be in love with Peeta, sir...”

“No, girl,” he snapped, eyes narrowing. “I asked you to _convince the entire country_ that you were in love with the boy. I asked you to quell the uprisings in the districts, which was only fair given that your actions had led to said uprisings in the first place. And yet, four years later, Miss Everdeen, the districts haven't stopped opposing the Capitol...and I find that as time goes by, more and more of the districts are willing to join the movement.”

Her heart missed a beat.

“Do not act surprised,” Snow commanded, voice harsh. “I know that you're a better actress than you pretend to be, Miss Everdeen, and that you've got your fellow Victors fooled into believing that you're nothing but obedient to the Capitol. You and I know different, however...” He dabbed at the corner of his mouth again, and when he spoke, his breath had a sharp iron tang to it. “Now, the uprisings that you failed to nip in the bud four years ago are worsening. And this is not only your fault, my dear, but I also believe that you have had your part to play. Haven't you?”

“I don't under-”

“You've been participating in the rebel's efforts, haven't you girl? You've been coaxing the districts into rebellion through your admirers out there. How many direct orders have you given? What are those orders, exactly, and, before you dare try to lie, Miss Everdeen, how many people will have to _die_ before you give me the information I want?”

She exploded then.

“I don't know what you're talking about!” she hissed. “I had no idea the districts were still trying to rebel. I've done everything you said. I joined Victory Hall to protect my family, not to incite rebellion! You have me on tape and camera all day, every day. You know that I don't even talk to anyone on the outside, much less drive them to-”

“Ah, Miss Everdeen,” he interrupted, mouth tight. “You'd do well to watch your tongue. I am not one of the many fools prepared to be bullied by the Mockingjay. And we both know that the prettiest roses can hide the most prickly thorns.”

She stared at him, taking in his malevolent expression.

“I haven't done anything,” she repeated, eyes narrow.

“Ah, my dear girl, how I _hoped_ it wouldn't come to this,” President Snow sighed, his threatening smirk showing that he had hoped the exact opposite. He took a step back and raised his voice. “Please bring Miss Everdeen to the Mansion's cells. She is to be interrogated to the extent of our capacity in such matters.”

Katniss turned swiftly as several Peacekeepers emerged from the darkness near the elevator. Suddenly, she realized why Snow was here- to taunt her. To make the Mockingjay pay for inciting a rebellion. And she knew what _interrogation_ meant, especially when it happened in the Mansion.

“Remind them that I am the Girl on Fire and that I will not hesitate to kill them,” she spat.

“Miss Everdeen,” Snow shook his head tiredly. “You are in no position to threaten anyone. For each Peacekeeper that you attack, ten children from District 12 will be executed. I'd hate to have to keep you in line in such a fashion. Do not let innocent babe's lives go to waste.”

Katniss felt her blood run cold and bit her lip to remain calm, even as the Peacekeepers advanced on her. Two of them grabbed her arms, twisting them painfully in her back, and she flinched as her wrists were suddenly kissed by cold metal as they were handcuffed behind her. She pulled on her restraints to no avail, and President Snow stepped in front of her, fingering a white rose in the pocket of his smartly-tailored black suit jacket.

“Miss Mason didn't break,” he smiled demurely, “but I am most certain _you_ will. And when you do, I promise you this, Miss Everdeen- as a reward for your cooperation, your death will be most quick and painless.”

Then he was gone, disappearing into the elevator with four Peacekeepers as she felt her chest rise and fall way too fast, staring after him. Eight Peacekeepers remained with her, and as soon as the elevator doors opened again, they bundled her in, surrounding her to the point she felt she wouldn't be able to breathe anymore.

She was surprised when the doors opened on the 10th floor, and realized why when she saw Enobaria emerge from her bedroom down the long corridor, frowning at the sudden noise. Enobaria's eyes widened in panic, and Katniss knew that this was a display of power, meant to remind the other Victors of what happened when Snow believed that they were opposing the Capitol. Enobaria vanished into the District Room, and Katniss heard her shout as she was dragged down the corridor. Then Finnick, Peeta and Johanna were suddenly in the corridor, faces deadly serious.

“What is the meaning of this?” Finnick growled, eyeing the Peacekeepers with barely concealed hatred.

“Move, boy,” one of the Peacekeepers barked, fingers curling around his gun. “Orders of President Snow.”

“Is she being arrested?”

“Course not, boy,” the Peacekeeper lied with a chuckle. “The President requires Miss Everdeen's _charms_ for the night.”

Johanna's hand landed on Peeta's shoulder as he visibly tensed, and she was muttering something in his ear, staring into Katniss' face. Peeta seemed frozen, listening intently, but his gaze was flickering over the group. Despite the situation, Katniss felt her belly lurch at the idea of Johanna's proximity with her co-Victor. Then Gloss appeared from the District Room all of a sudden, and his strong, large hands were on Peeta's arms as he dragged him back into the room and away from Katniss. She wanted to scream at Peeta to come back, to help her, but that would only land him in trouble.

She had no right to do so.

Finnick glanced over his shoulder as the same Peacekeeper ordered him to move again, his ocean-coloured eyes following Peeta, and then he turned to look at Katniss, lips pursed. He wasn't laughing now, as he usually was. For the first time, Katniss realized that she was looking at the fourteen-year-old who had won his Games by killing countless others. She was looking at a skilled assassin. And right now, his lethal intentions seemed directed at the Peacekeepers. Something was about to go terribly wrong, she felt it deep in her gut- and despite that, she was touched at the idea of Finnick Odair, prankster extraordinaire, willing to put his safety on the line for a girl who had showed him nothing but cool contempt for four years. Respect and a touch of awe bloomed through her chest, and she managed to stand straighter, if only for a moment.

“Finnick,” she murmured, and his eyes caught her gaze. “ _Please_.”

It sounded like begging, and it was. Finnick's eyes narrowed at her slightly, as though he was wondering if she really knew what she was asking, and she nodded faintly. With a defeated sigh, and a last hateful glance at the Peacekeepers, he moved aside. She tried to smile reassuringly at him but her mouth refused to obey, and she let the Peacekeepers march her to the elevator at the other end of the corridor. She turned around as they shoved her into the elevator once again, and stared ahead. Finnick was still there, fists clenched, and Annie had joined him, her hand on his arm as she whispered something. Before the doors closed, she noticed Cashmere and Enobaria joining them as well, eyes haunted.

They all knew as well as she did what was going to happen to her now. She knew she wouldn't see them again, although they probably thought that, just like Johanna, she'd return in a couple of days. But she wasn't going to sell her body to President Snow, though. She was going to be tortured and killed.

The doors closed and she felt the elevator plummet downwards to her death.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go! Hope you liked it. Little Peeta in this chapter, although his reaction to her arrest is telling, but things are looking very dire for Katniss...now at least we have confirmation of whatever the Victors were plotting: rebellion. Problem is, Katniss truly knows nothing...  
> What do you suspect happens now?  
> Will update soon!
> 
> PS: The chapter title is a reference to the French rhyme "Noires ailes, noires nouvelles", which literally translates to "Black wings, black news" and is one of the CK2 AGOT mod loading screen catchphrases. Any CK2 players out there? IS THERE NO-ONE TO BEAT MY RECORD OF REFORMING THE HRE IN UNDER ONE HUNDRED NINETEEN YEARS?! That's- my personal record, though. Nothing official.


	9. Down The Rabbit Hole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, people! Read this before the chapter, please.
> 
> This chapter is exclusively dedicated to Katniss' experience in the Mansion, aka torture. I generally don't include warnings, especially since this chapter isn't very graphic, but I've noticed that several readers seem to be uncomfortable with the idea. So, for those who don't want to read this chapter but would still like to follow the story, go straight down the page to the "End Notes", where I've included a brief summary of the chapter.

…

The cell was dark and damp. She had been marched in and strapped to an uncomfortable wooden stool, blinking under the harsh white lights, and then the Peacekeepers had left and everything had gone dark.

How long she remained there, sitting upright, she didn't know. She could feel her skin grow cold, her teeth chattering as she lost feeling in her fingers or toes- whether due to the cold or to the lengths of rope restraining her, she wasn't sure.

Her mind played the possible tortures she would be subjected to. She'd never really known what went on down here- no-one did. Few came out alive, and she'd never met any, save for Johanna. What could they do to her? Beat her? Rape her? Taunt her? Threaten her family? She felt the mental walls she'd spent years building shoot up, protecting her. She didn't know anything, but she suspected that after a while, she'd talk. She wasn't stupid- she may not know what torture she would endure, but she did know that it would be specifically designed to break her. She knew she'd probably beg for death before it came. It felt so strange to imagine begging for death, after all she'd been through to ensure her survival, in District 12, in the arena and in the Hall.

Snow was under the impression that she knew about the supposed uprisings in the districts. That was probably why Johanna had been arrested as well. Did Johanna know anything about this? Is this what the Victors had been plotting behind her back? If it was, she wouldn't give any indication of it to Snow's goons, whenever they came. She'd lie. She'd feed them false information, when she broke down. She'd claim to be the Mockingjay through and through, the sole driving force behind the rebellion. She wouldn't sell them out- not Finnick, who'd seemed ready to tear into the Peacekeepers on her behalf, not Peeta, who had loved her enough to let her break his heart, not sweet Annie or proud Johanna nor the others.

The lights flickered back on, blinding her, and a man entered her cell, smiling sharply. He looked pristine, in a white doctor's gown, and his hands were crossed behind his back. His features were pointy and his black hair slicked back- he looked normal, when compared to the majority of the Capitolites.

“Hello, Miss Everdeen,” he said politely.

Two other men entered the cell, similarly dressed. One was carrying a small coffee table and he set it down in a corner, facing her. The other one was carrying a large leather suitcase, and he set it upon the coffee table, before they both left quietly.

“Now,” the doctor-like figure stated as he turned and undid the suitcase's clasps. “I hope you'll get talking, my dear, and soon. I'd hate to make this _too_ painful on you.”

There was a glint in his eyes that proved otherwise, and Katniss craned her neck slightly to eye the suitcase. He opened it with a flourish and she blanched. It was brimming with clean, sharpened knives, and she spotted a couple of syringes.

“Do you appreciate my collection?” he asked, voice smooth. “Quite expensive, I must say. But our dear President Snow is most generous with those of his employees who prove themselves _loyal_.” He shot her a disapproving glance. “Now, my dear, I know that you believe yourself rather tolerant to pain, after everything you've been through, but I must warn you- you don't know what pain is, _yet_.”

He grabbed a remote controller from the suitcase and pressed a couple of buttons. A large flatscreen emerged from the ceiling, halting in front of her.

“I like to have background noise and image whilst working,” he explained, turning the screen on with a touch of a button. “Makes everything moodier, I think.”

Katniss gasped as her mother appeared on the screen. She looked tired and worn out, but she was still as pretty as ever. She didn't seem to realize that there was a camera pointed on her from an above angle as she walked through the streets of the Seam with a wicker basket on her arm. The doctor began humming as he selected several knives, back turned to her. She cast him a glance, noticing how he checked the sharpness of each one against his finger, but her eyes were drawn back to her mother.

Her mother stepped through the door to their home and the camera angle switched. Katniss realized with a pang of dread that this camera seemed to be filming from the kitchen ceiling as her mother stopped by the oven, taking a couple of loaves of bread out of her basket.

“Live feed,” the doctor interjected, glancing at the screen too. “Marvelous technology, wouldn't you say? I'm afraid you won't see your little sister on the screen yet. She's staying with Hazelle Hawthorne tonight- I believe she's been tutoring little Posy.” He shot her a shark-like grin. “But _maybe_ you'll see her later.”

Katniss ignored him, staring at her mother for the first time in three and a half years. The last time she'd seen her was the morning she'd left on Victory Tour. She hadn't returned to District 12 since.

Her mother swiped her brow tiredly. She looked entirely too thin for a woman who was supposed to receive care packages every month, as the Victors' families did. She turned to the oven, grabbing a box of matches, and opened the hearth, lighting a match as she did so. The tiny light hovered between her bony fingers for a second as she flicked it into the black depths of the oven.

The explosion shook even the camera, and then the screen went blank.

Katniss felt the knife slide under her left thumbnail as she stared, wide-eyed, at the flatscreen in front of her, and she blocked out the pain for a short second as the reality of her mother's death- that she'd just witnessed in real time- hit her. Then it all came back to her, _her mother was dead_ , and the knife was slicing away in agonizing pain as the doctor hummed near her ear, and _that was when she began screaming._

…

They'd left her in the dark again as she sobbed dryly, feeling the blood drip from her nail-less fingers, until it stopped. Then _he_ returned, a vial of something blue between his fingers, and he'd crooned at the cleverness of the Capitol researchers as he bathed her bloody fingertips with it. She'd cried again as she felt her nails grow back in, in a matter of mere minutes, and then once more, even when she had no tears left, as he cut them out again. Then he treated her in the same fashion one last time. He didn't even want to hear her talk about the uprisings, apparently, hadn't asked any questions in that regard- he was only here to make her suffer.

…

The first scream echoed throughout her entire body as she craned her neck in pure terror, trying to find its source. It was all around her and no-where at once, but she would have recognized that voice anywhere.

“Katniss!” the voice screamed, pain and horror clear. “Katniss, please, help me! _Katniss_!”

“Prim,” she sobbed, before screaming in return.

“Katniss, please help!” Prim screeched as a howl of pain escaped her lips. “Katniss! They're...oh God, that hurts so much, please... _please_...Katniss, why aren't you _helping_ me?”

She couldn't do anything but listen to her sister's tortured screams. They dragged on for what seemed like days. And then, after a while, the silence suddenly returned.

“Prim,” she whispered, realizing she had no voice left, that her throat was raw. “Prim?” She'd screamed too much as well.

…

He gave her a shoulder massage when he returned, but she couldn't relax- his touch was pain and death. Her throat was raw, her tongue was dry, and she felt faint

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, her voice a broken whisper.

“Don't ask me why I'm doing this,” the doctor answered, voice amused. “Ask me what I'm going to do _next_.”

She didn't. She did, however, feel the prick of pain when the syringe met her neck.

…

She was in the arena again, blinking at the trees surrounding her, and Peeta was there. Dirty, limping, but alive, and looking at her once again as though she was everything that was good within the world. His beautiful blue eyes shone at her, and he held out a hand for her to catch. She gasped, tossing her bow and quiver aside, and ran to him, almost leaping into his arms as he chuckled, his arms hugging her, and _oh_ , how she'd missed this without even realizing. She'd been a fucking _fool_ for the past four years, hadn't she? Peeta could have given her this every time she'd needed. She could have kissed away his pain in return. They could have found something _good_ , something _pure_ and _worthy_ in their daily hell.

“I've missed you,” she gasped against his neck, and his arms tightened around her before he brought one hand to her nape, lightly stroking her skin there and making her tremble in his hold.

“I know,” he whispered in return. “You want this again, don't you? You want our friendship. Our protection. Our _love_.”

The way he said the last word made Katniss blink back a few tears. She wanted his friendship and his love, that much was certain- although she wasn't sure what _kind_ of love on his part she needed exactly. He seemed to read her answer in the way she held him tighter.

“But in order to achieve that, Katniss,” he murmured, “you have to tell them everything you know. Then they'll let you go and you can return to me. To us Victors. To safety.”

“Tell them what?” she replied softly, feeling herself truly relax for the first time in four years, thanks to his touch.

“About the districts.”

Something pulled at her brain at that. Arena Peeta wouldn't have known about that. There was no rebellion until their Games ended. She frowned, deciding not to develop on that sudden thought- she was feeling too happy about her current situation to do so.

“I don't know anything, Peeta,” she answered truthfully. “President Snow accused me of a lot of things and I didn't understand half of them.”

He sighed and kissed her hair.

“Liar,” he whispered, and she felt the hand on her neck tighten slightly. “Please don't lie to me, Katniss. Please don't break my heart again. Tell me what's going on. You know you can trust me.”

She pulled away slightly to look at him, feeling her heart clench at the pain in his eyes.

“I'm not lying,” she said. “I don't know a thing. I've had nothing to do with any of this.”

Something changed in Peeta then- his eyes grew cold, unnaturally cold. She'd never seen him look at anyone that way.

“Liar,” he repeated, and it was a hiss. Then his other hand reached up to grab her throat and he was squeezing the life out of her, still snarling, “Liar! Liar!” as she fell, scrabbling against his hold to no avail as he choked the life out of her...

…

She was standing in front of the net, sweet little Rue watching her with damp, scared eyes as she tried to free her. The net gave way and Rue fell into her arms, sobbing quietly against her shoulder as Katniss held her tight, whispering sweet nothings. She saw the Career tribute over Rue's shoulder and her hold on Rue tightened protectively as he fingered his spear. Then, he grinned at her, standing upright and tossing his spear aside.

“ _Do it_ , Twelve,” he called out, chuckling. “Do it. It'll be her or you in the end.”

Katniss wanted to shake her head, to pull an arrow and fire it at him. But she didn't. Her eyes lowered on her fingers as they moved by themselves, reaching out to grasp an arrowhead. And then slowly, painstakingly, she drove it into little Rue's stomach.

Rue gasped, eyes wide, as the Career tribute laughed out loud and Katniss released her. The tiny girl swayed, blood pouring liberally out of the wound.

“You did this,” she whispered. “You betrayed me.”

Katniss wanted to scream no, that it wasn't true, that she reminded her of Prim and she'd never hurt Prim and that Rue was a little flower in the meadow to her, but all that came out of her mouth was a cold laugh...

“You killed me,” Rue whispered as she crumpled, repeating the words over and over, damning her ally. “You killed me, Katniss. You killed me. _You killed me_...”

…

The world was foggy as she came to, but she couldn't deny the pain. Her body felt exhausted, pushed over its limit, and she couldn't help but remember Rue's eyes, the pain and betrayal that had shone there, and Peeta's grip on her throat as he killed her...she tried to tell herself that it wasn't true, none of it was, she hadn't killed Rue and she herself was alive, but the dots didn't seem to connect. She was tired. _So tired_...

“Would you like to sleep, Katniss?”

The voice belonged to a male. It was sharp, clinical and unkind, and she felt her eyelids droop as she swayed slightly on her seat. Yes, she wanted to sleep. She wanted to _die_. Her back was burning and she felt a trickle of blood, or something similar, on her forehead. She managed a nod.

“I'll allow you to sleep, dear girl,” the voice boomed, making her flinch. “But only if you tell me what you know. We've arrested Peeta. He's next to die if you don't talk.”

She whimpered pathetically and felt someone grab her hair and pull her face up into a blinding white light.

“Don't know,” she groaned thickly, tasting blood. “Not me. Don't know. _Good girl_.”

She heard him talk then, but didn't make out what he was saying. Her instincts, however, told her that he wasn't speaking to her. She smelt a whiff of roses and gagged.

“Release...none...when I...not working...follow...spark...”

She knew that voice. She hated that voice. She wanted to kill the owner of that voice, but she only managed a huff before finally passing out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to ask you if you liked the chapter, but what did you think of it?
> 
> For those who didn't read the chapter, here's the summary: Katniss wakes in a dark cell in the Mansion and reflects on the fact that if need be, she'll feed the Capitol false information to protect her fellow Victors. Then, a doctor enters the cell. He makes Katniss watch her mother die in an explosion onscreen. He proceeds to denail her several times. He makes her listen to Prim's screams for hours on end. He injects her with a poison that makes her hallucinate (I imagine tracker jacker venom, as in the hijacking procedure, although said procedure is long, much longer than this). She first hallucinates of Peeta in the arena, who welcomes her with open arms, and she reflects on how much she's missed him. Peeta interrogates her gently, then more firmly, about the uprisings, and when she fails to answer, he strangles her to death. Then, she hallucinates the time when Rue was caught in the net, only this time, she is the one who murders Rue by stabbing her. These hallucinations are extremely lifelike, and Katniss, most of the time, can't tell the difference between real and unreal. When she wakes up, the doctor tells her they've arrested Peeta and he'll die next if she doesn't talk, and as she's close to fainting from the pain, she hears the doctor speak to someone, and vividly smells roses. Then she blacks out. End of chapter.
> 
> Will update tomorrow, as I promised avis11.


	10. Tide Turning

 

…

She felt like cowering in the car forever, even though the bright night lights hurt her eyes. She bit back a sob as she felt a shock of pain when she moved to exit the vehicle.

She didn't know what had happened- why President Snow had decided to release her- but here she was. She remembered the cell, the torture, but she didn't know what had happened after she'd fainted. When she woke up, she was lying in a stiff bed, a nurse hovering above her, checking her vitals. Then, she'd been given the all-clear and bundled into a car that had stopped in front of Victory Hall.

She stepped out of the car, shaking slightly. Everything was harsh, aggressive, violent. The sounds, the lights, the smells even...she whimpered before chastising herself. The torture was over now. She was _safe_.

_What a joke_.

And it wasn't even a funny one.

She entered the Hall, Peacekeepers walking her to the elevator, every step a struggle. Her body ached terribly, but that wasn't what bothered her the most- her mind kept replaying it all- her mother's demise, Prim's haunting screams, Peeta's fingers choking the life from her, Rue's accusing eyes...and the doctor's smile, cold, professional, even as he cut her nails to the bone, even as he ran sharp knives across her pulse points like some sort of sick foreplay.

She'd been there so long that she didn't know how to act outside of her cell anymore.

The Peacekeepers retreated from the elevator as the doors closed and she blinked. The walls were closing in on her, suffocating her, threatening to crush her...

And then, before she could scream, the elevator came grinding to a halt and the door opened. She took in the view warily, the long, white corridor, the bright lights, so clinical, all so _clinical just like the man sent to torture her and oh please make it stop please please please I don't know anything-_

A pretty redheaded woman stepped out of one of the doors lining the corridor, and her eyes widened almost comically as she saw Katniss.

“Fuck,” she swore and Katniss almost chuckled- she was having trouble gaining her surroundings, but she knew that this woman never swore. “Finnick! Cashmere!”

She heard footsteps as she stumbled out of the elevator and her heart sped up. Footsteps were _bad_. They meant that more torture was to come. She wanted to run but her legs suddenly gave way and she fell to her knees, huddling against the corridor wall as she felt soft, cool hands run across her face, and heard a woman's soft voice muttering. She noticed gold curls, and knew that Cashmere was holding her. Red blurred her vision _and it was like blood and she was dying_ , but it was only Annie, coming to Cashmere's aid. A male voice made her flinch, even though she knew that no harm would come to her from its owner, and she felt her eyelids drooping again before the world went dark.

…

She heard them talk before she managed to open her eyes. She wanted to move, to show them that she was awake, but she couldn't- it was too much effort. So she lay quietly, letting cool hands stroke her forehead and listening to them.

“...she's been tortured for absolutely no reason...”

“...arrested last night...”

“She doesn't know anything. This isn't fair...”

“When has life been fair to us anyway?”

“But this is...”

“...her legs and arms weren't functioning correctly when she returned, and...”

“...good thing these Capitol drugs are fast. I'm afraid that...”

“Where's the doctor?”

“No doctors, Cashmere. Don't trust...”

She managed to move her fingers and heard a soft gasp as someone took her hand, gently. She felt better as her eyes fluttered open. More like the old Katniss, and not like whatever she'd been when she'd been brought back to Victory Hall. She blinked the fuzziness away and Cashmere's worried face came into view.

“Hi, Girl on Fire,” she heard a voice murmur. Finnick. Her eyes met his, above Cashmere's shoulder. His voice didn't make her flinch this time. “Welcome back.”

She grunted and tried to sit. Annie came to her aid and she welcomed the pillows behind her back with relief. Cashmere smiled thinly at her, blue eyes worried.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, still holding her hand, rubbing small, soothing circles into the skin with her thumb.

“Like shit,” Katniss managed to croak out after a couple of attempts, and Finnick guffawed, sitting on the floor in front of the sofa. Glancing around, Katniss realized she was in the District Room. She also noticed the state of the place. “Umm.” She coughed, throat burning, and Annie pressed a glass of water to her lips. She drank gladly and gave Annie a despairing look when the glass emptied, but the redhead shook her head.

“Not too much, too fast,” Annie refused. “Wait a couple of minutes.”

“What happened here?” Katniss asked, voice still weak. “Did Snow drop a bomb while I was gone?”

It looked like it. Paintings were ripped from the walls, tossed carelessly to the ground. Glass shards glittered near the fireplace. Thick splinters of wood had rained upon the furniture.

“Ah,” Annie answered, glancing at Finnick. “Peeta, he was...” she trailed off, unsure.

“Peeta didn't take too kindly to your arrest, Katniss,” Finnick explained softly, watching her through thoughtful eyes.

Her eyebrows shot up. Peeta had clearly told her he wanted nothing to do with her. And upon her arrest, he'd gone berserk? She was missing something here.

_Many_ things, if Haymitch was to be believed.

That thought reminded her of what got her arrested in the first place.

“I need to speak to Johanna,” she whispered, pushing Peeta to the back of her mind. She'd deal with him later. She remembered the warmth she'd felt when Peeta had taken her into his arms whilst she was under the effects of the poison they'd injected her with. It had been a dream, a hallucination carefully crafted and monitored by the Capitol, but still...

“Johanna isn't here yet,” Cashmere said. “It's just us. The others are working.”

Katniss frowned slightly.

“How long?” she asked as Annie presented her with another lifesaving glass of water. How long had she been a prisoner of the Mansion? Several weeks, at the very least.

“You were arrested last night, Katniss,” Finnick replied gently. “About ten hours ago. It's half seven in the morning. Needless to say, everyone was late to work, what with your arrest...”

“That's not possible,” she murmured.

No. They couldn't have killed her mother and tortured Prim for days on end and led her through controlled hallucinations in only ten hours.

Annie patted her arm gently. There was a short silence, and then Katniss spoke again.

“They killed her,” she whispered, voice blank. “They killed her. Made me watch.”

“Oh, Katniss,” Annie murmured, “who?”

“My mother.”

There was silence after that. They needn't talk.

“I need to speak with Haymitch,” she gasped suddenly. Her mother was dead, but Haymitch would know when they'd come to fetch Prim.

Finnick nodded and stood to grab the holophone. After merely a ring, Haymitch answered. For once, he wasn't holding a bottle, and his bloodshot eyes focused on Finnick straight away.

“Any news?” he barked immediately.

“She's here, Haymitch,” Finnick said, turning the screen slightly to face the sofa and Katniss. Haymitch audibly sighed in relief, closing his eyes for a second, and Katniss felt a small smirk creep up on her face.

“Missed me, Haymitch?” she chuckled weakly, and her mentor shook his head.

“You stupid girl,” he snarled. “Don't _ever_ get arrested like that again, you hear me?”

Then he bent over, momentarily disappearing from the screen, and reappeared with a bottle of whisky. Things were back to normal just like that, and it was a relief- Katniss had never thought that she'd live the day she'd be happy to see Haymitch drink.

“I'll try not to,” she answered snappily.

That was the way things worked between Haymitch and her. He yelled at her and she yelled back, she snarled at him and he growled at her. This was _normal_. She wondered for a moment if Haymitch had truly been worried for her.

“What'd they do to you?” he grunted, taking a swig.

She couldn't answer that. She didn't want to. She was safe here, under Haymitch's watchful eye and her fellow Victor's care, and she didn't want to return to that dark place in her mind.

“Haymitch,” she whispered. “They killed my mother.”

He set his bottle down on the table in front of him, slowly.

“They tortured Prim,” she added quietly. “I heard her scream for hours. Please, please Haymitch...you need to find out for how long she's been in the Capitol. Please. And tell Gale and his family to...” She suddenly remembered that they were in the District Room, and that it was bugged.

Haymitch seemed to understand however.

“I'll call back as soon as I get the information for you,” he said. “Until then, stay put, sweetheart. Don't isolate yourself again. Stay with the other Victors.”

The call disconnected, true to Haymitch's style, and Katniss felt herself breathe. The bubble of anguish in her chest deflated somewhat. She felt tired, yet she knew she couldn't rest. She needed answers. If she'd been tortured because of something the Victors were hiding from her, she needed to find out what it was.

“I want Peeta,” she muttered thickly, and Finnick's eyebrows rose almost comically as he carelessly tossed a sugar cube into his mouth.

“Sorry, Katniss, what was that?”

“Peeta,” she repeated, struggling to stay awake. “I saw him there.”

“Where?”

“In the arena. In the cell.”

She noticed Finnick and Cashmere frowning at each other, as Annie stared at her.

“Katniss,” Cashmere said slowly, “Peeta wasn't with you. He was here.”

“I know,” she snapped, frustrated. “I know. I just- he was there, in my mind. They made me believe- and he felt so warm and then he killed me and I murdered Rue...” She felt tears gathering. She wanted to explain it to them, so that they'd know what to expect if Snow ever came knocking at their doors, but she was failing, and it angered her to no end.

“What the fuck did they do to you down there?” Finnick muttered angrily, combing his hair with his fingers. “ _Shit_. Katniss, whatever happened...Peeta wasn't there. He didn't hurt you. And Rue...you never killed her. She was your ally. Some Career bastard did, remember?”

She latched onto his words. She knew that he was right. But it had all felt so real that everything was confusing...

The holophone began ringing suddenly and Annie answered it. Haymitch's face appeared, and she read the truth in the lines of his face. Biting back a sob, she waited to hear it, however.

“I'm so sorry, sweetheart,” he said, voice lacking its usual sarcasm. “I'm so, _so_ sorry, Katniss.”

She felt the tears flow, but her heart was numb. She heard Haymitch's voice break into her shell.

“Your mother was in her house when it exploded. It's been ruled as an accident by the fucking Peacekeepers. But, sweetheart... _Primrose is fine_.”

Her head snapped up at that and she stared at him, cheeks wet.

“Your sister is still in 12, Katniss,” Haymitch assured her. “She was staying with the Hawthorne family last night. I've seen her and she's fine, although shaken over your mother's death- she was never in the Capitol. They tricked you.”

Katniss didn't know how to feel anymore. On one hand, her mother was dead. On the other, Prim, her love and joy, was fine. She was never tortured by the Capitol. She cast Haymitch a doubtful glance.

“But I heard her...”

“Primrose Everdeen is a Victor's sister, Katniss,” Finnick interrupted gently. “There's tons of footage of her. She's been regularly interviewed by the Capitol, as the Girl on Fire's little sister and everything. I expect it would be easy to modify the audio...”

“Indeed,” Haymitch nodded. “Trust me, Katniss- she's fine. She's with Gale at the moment. He'll protect her.”

“Gale,” Katniss murmured. “Is he-”

“Everyone is okay,” Haymitch nodded, face serious.

Katniss wanted to relax, but she knew they were still in danger. Besides, she couldn't get the thought of her mother's last moments, before she was murdered, out of her head.

“My mother looked way too thin, Haymitch,” she said. “Is my family receiving the money I've been sending?”

“Katniss,” Haymitch sighed, grasping his bottle. “I had no idea you were sending anything. You never told anyone, remember? As for the Victor's care packages, they've been stopped. 12 hasn't received any since your Victory Tour. Punishment, I guess.”

Katniss nodded slowly.

“Please, Haymitch...could you-”

“I'll keep an eye on them,” Haymitch declared. “Primrose will be staying with the Hawthornes, according to Mrs Hawthorne. I believe she'll be safer there than with me. But I'll still see them fed.”

She nodded, wanting to thank him, but couldn't get the words out. Haymitch didn't need her thanks, however. He nodded gruffly, winking at Finnick, and then raised his bottle in salute before the wall went blank.

“If you need me,” Finnick stated gently, “I'll be in my room. That...that goes for you, as well, Katniss.”

She raised her eyes to him, recognizing the gesture of friendship for what it was. She wouldn't get another chance. She couldn't screw this up again.

“Thanks, Finnick,” she whispered. “I'll keep it in mind.”

He nodded somewhat stiffly, and exited the room.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, there you go. No Peeta...yet. Interesting to see that in her confusion, Katniss would ask after him, don't you think?


	11. Lather, Rinse And Repeat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So here's Chapter 11. Now, I must input a warning here for corpse desecration. Without further ado, the chapter!

…

She wasn't sure when or how she dozed off, but she snapped to attention when she heard voices rise in the corridor. Slightly dizzy, she noticed that she was still lying on the sofa, and Cashmere was still holding her hand, having apparently fallen asleep sitting next to her. Her mind didn't have any time to proceed this before she heard someone- Finnick, she believed- shout again.

“This is fucked up!”

Cashmere stood, and Katniss, struggling, imitated her. Then suddenly, the door banged open and Johanna appeared, face set in a ferocious expression. She glanced at Katniss then turned to Cashmere.

“Come,” she ordered, and hesitated for a brief moment before adding, “ _Her_ , too.”

Cashmere's eyebrows rose, but she grabbed a hold of Katniss' wrist again and gently pulled her towards the door.

“Can you walk?”

Katniss nodded and Cashmere let her go. The younger Victor followed the beautiful blonde woman into the Arena Room, where Johanna, Finnick, Annie and Peeta were seated. Gloss was pacing like a tiger in a cage, and Enobaria, teeth bared, was glaring at him.

“I can't believe you,” the dark-skinned woman snarled.

“Shut it,” Gloss snapped in return as Cashmere closed the door before helping Katniss to a seat.

“Sit down, the both of you,” Finnick growled at Gloss and Enobaria. “I think you've _both_ fucked up enough for tonight.”

“What's going on?” Cashmere asked loudly, asking the question Katniss was about to.

“Well, something of a fight broke out between two Peacekeepers and our two champions here,” Finnick snarled, pointing to Gloss and Enobaria.

“They were threatening her,” Gloss growled softly.

“I don't give a shit,” Finnick spat. “Anyway, now we have two dead bodies in the middle of the corridor.”

Katniss inhaled sharply. Dead bodies? As in, her fellow Victors had killed two Peacekeepers?

“You're kidding,” Cashmere whispered in disbelief.

“Wish I was,” Finnick snapped. Katniss had never seen him like this- sure, he had sported the same fierce look during his games, but this was entirely different.

“How are we going to explain this to President Snow?” Annie asked, wringing her hands worriedly.

“Easy one,” Peeta replied quietly. “We don't. We can't.”

“Yeah, because two Peacekeepers miraculously disappear on the job and no-one knows what happened, that's going to go down well,” Finnick deflated slightly, pushing his hair back in frustration. “I'm absolutely _certain_ no-one will be dragged off to the Mansion to be tortured.”

Katniss shuddered, feeling a cold screen of sweat break out all over her body, and she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to concentrate on the matter at hand. When she opened them again, her gaze flittered over Johanna, who had blanched slightly. They both knew what a visit to the Mansion entailed.

“What about the bugs in the corridor?” she asked quietly, fighting the blush when everyone glanced at her.

“Ah, about that,” Cashmere replied somewhat sheepishly. “We've been, ah, deactivating the bugs one by one.”

“Meaning?” she frowned, leaning forward in her seat.

“Meaning that the corridor elbow where it happened isn't bugged anymore,” Annie confirmed softly, before turning to Finnick. “Do you think bugs down the corridor would have picked up on the fight?”

“No,” Finnick answered thoughtfully. “I really don't believe so.”

Johanna tapped her fingernails against the table.

“We still need to make them disappear,” she stated coldly. “The bodies.”

“What if their collegues knew where they went?” Annie interjected.

“I doubt it,” Peeta shook his head. “The Peacekeepers have strict orders to not come to our floor unless in a case of emergency. They weren't supposed to be here.”

“Then why were they?” Katniss urged, looking at him.

She was surprised when he actually answered her. But then again, this meeting wasn't personal.

“Ah, they were young, probably new to the job,” he said.

“Yeah, and thought they could get a piece of Enobaria for free or something,” Gloss growled.

Katniss knew that some Victors were particularly close. Johanna and Peeta. Finnick and Annie. The siblings and Enobaria. She suddenly wondered exactly how close Gloss and Enobaria were, because the blonde man seemed downright _enraged_ at the idea of the Peacekeepers demanding her company.

“So, did they?” Johanna chuckled.

“Don't be ridiculous, Mason,” Gloss grunted, but Johanna's remark had lessened the tension ever so slightly. Now that Katniss was seeing her fellow Victors more often, she was learning a bit more about them- and Johanna seemed to be the class clown, along with Finnick. She supposed that role could be useful sometimes.

“So what do we do?” Cashmere asked. “We can't really stride out of here with a couple of dead Peacekeepers in tow.”

Katniss sighed and ignored them, this time, when they turned to her.

“When I was living in District 12, I'd often go hunting to make sure we didn't go hungry,” she reminded them. “Of course, such an activity was illegal. Even if the Peacekeepers there weren't exactly strict, it still wasn't a good idea to play with fate. So, whenever I cured a kill, I made sure to make all traces of it disappear. It's, uh...it's messy, though. And not...not really pleasant.”

“Do you think you could make two fully grown, human bodies disappear, Katniss?” Finnick asked gently, and she met his kind eyes with a shiver before answering,

“Yes. Yes, I could.”

No one questioned her, and that brought some sense of relief. Instead, Enobaria leaned forward and asked,

“What do you need?”

“Acid,” she replied quietly. “Lots and lots of acid. And, ah...a good butcher's knife.”

“I'm not sure I want to know,” Annie noted with a shudder.

“I do,” Johanna interrupted. “How exactly...”

“Down the drain,” Katniss explained. “I carve them up and bathe the parts in acid for a while, until everything is dissolved.”

There was a short silence, and Gloss let out a low whistle.

“Remind me to never cross you, Girl on Fire,” he murmured.

“Where do we get acid, though?” Cashmere asked.

“The Avoxes,” Peeta replied immediately. “They're bound to have loads of the stuff. They're in charge of cleaning everything, from dishes to gutters.”

“That's going to be a problem,” Cashmere pointed out. “We can't really ask the next Avox we see, ' _hey, by the way, we got a couple corpses in the back room, mind lending us a few bottles of the stuff?_ '”

“That's a thorough misunderstanding of human psychology,” Johanna shook her head. “These people are slaves, mutilated by the Peacekeepers and submitted to awful living conditions. I don't think they'll be as adverse to helping us as you believe.”

“Well it's not like we have a choice anyway,” Finnick sighed, glaring at Gloss. “Seriously, you need to chill, my friend. Treasonous words and killing Peacekeepers...what's next? Blowing up a homemade bomb in Snow's personal toilet?”

“Now that you mention it...” Johanna had a dreamy look about her, and Katniss couldn't hold back a snort.

“Going out like the shit he is,” Peeta grinned at Johanna. “Poetic justice.”

They chuckled, and Finnick stood.

“We can't stay here too long, all of us,” he reminded them. “The bugs will be wondering where we are.”

Katniss let Cashmere help her to her feet again, and followed Finnick and Enobaria down the corridor where the Peacekeepers still lay. One's neck was obviously broken, his head at an impossible angle, and the other still had a kitchen knife sticking out of his heart.

“Bring them to one of the empty bedrooms,” she said softly. Finnick nodded, grabbing one of them under the arms and trailing the body behind him. Peeta and Gloss grabbed the other one after Enobaria pulled the knife from his chest.

“Will this do?” she asked Katniss, who checked the blade and nodded.

“Should be enough to carve up the bones,” she muttered gloomily.

“Annie's calling one of the Avoxes up,” Cashmere informed her gently.

Katniss swallowed thickly and entered the bedroom where the bodies were resting. She was disgusted by the task at hand, but she didn't have a choice- if she didn't do it, they would be doomed. Annie appeared at the door, a slender, brunette young woman at her side. Katniss had seen her around- she was an Avox. The young woman's eyes were wide as she took in the dead bodies, and Katniss glanced at Annie.

“She won't say anything,” Annie assured her immediately.

Katniss' eyebrows rose at the wording, and she noticed the way the Avox's eyes filled with mirth.

“Sorry,” Annie murmured, rubbing her wrist.

“Can you get us the acid, then?” Katniss asked the Avox, who nodded again and disappeared.

Katniss sighed and turned to Finnick.

“I'll need them in the bathtub,” she stated, jerking her thumb towards the bathroom door. “And people had better get _talking_ around here.”

Finnick appraised her through narrowed eyes. He knew what she was talking about. Katniss turned her back to him, however, dismissing him, and she heard his heavy sigh as he began pulling one of the corpses towards the bathroom. She'd been tortured and asked to dispose of two bodies- there was no way she was letting the other Victors wriggle their way out of an explanation this time, though.

As soon as the Avox returned, helping Gloss and Peeta as they carried a large vat of acid, Katniss set to work. She didn't undress the bodies- there was no need. It was a pity, she thought, that the Peacekeepers didn't carry any useful weapons with them- but then again, if they had, Gloss and Enobaria would probably be dead by now.

Ignoring the squirting blood, she began beheading the corpses, and distinctively heard a couple of noises of disgust behind her. She ignored them, feeling her walls slam into place for the first time in days.

This was a job. This was survival. They weren't human. _This was a job. This was survival. They weren't human. This was a job. This was survival. They weren't human. This was..._

She worked until her arms were sore, until her slippery, red fingers were numb, until the bathtub was filled to the brim with blood. Then she pulled the drain, watching the blood slip away, making slurping noises, her body present but her mind far away. She felt the blood dripping from her braid, knew she was covered in it.

_They weren't human. They were just two large deer. They were dead anyway._

When the blood had evacuated, she set about pouring half of the vat of acid into the bathtub, mindful of not getting any on her own skin. She only used half of it- she'd need the rest later, to break up any remaining bits. She watched silently as the acid sizzled slightly, then she turned towards the shower, not glancing at the mirror.

She'd dream about this, even while awake. It would creep up on her. The bad stuff always did.

She felt the need to purge herself, to cut the skin off her blood-soaked arms until only bone remained. She stripped, lowering her clothes into the acid bath along with the bodies, and stepped into the shower, staring at the blood as it washed away.

She washed a second time. And a third. After the fourth, her skin was raw. After the fifth, she began bleeding in earnest. Lather, rinse and repeat. _Lather, rinse and repeat._ She needed to stop. She couldn't stop. Her nails scrabbled uncontrollably against her skin, peeling off layers.

Annie found her some time after that, the woman's eyes everywhere but on the bathtub. Katniss was still under the shower. _Lather, rinse and repeat. Lather, rinse and repeat._

Without a word, Annie opened the shower door and turned off the tap. She needn't speak, after all. Annie knew what it was like. To do stuff you didn't want to. To become lower than dirt, all in the name of survival. Katniss expected the redhead to begin screaming when she reached into the shower, but she didn't, concentrated on Katniss, and the younger Victor instinctively knew her walls were up too. So similar. _They are me. I am them._

The woman grabbed a towel, carefully draping Katniss in it, then took her fellow Victor's hand, and Katniss followed her like a robot.

_This was survival. Lather, rinse and repeat. Don't let the walls down yet._

Annie guided her, her touch gentle, throughout the empty bedroom and down the corridor to Katniss' room. There, she pulled back the bedcovers. The light was blinding- it was the middle of the day, already. She helped Katniss settle in bed, her movements slow and automatic, then pulled the covers over her and pressed the button near the desk, forcing the blinds to close.

_They weren't human. Lather, rinse and repeat. Don't let the walls down yet._

Annie padded out of the bedroom quietly, leaving Katniss alone in the dark.

_They were deer. Lather, rinse and repeat. Don't let the walls down yet. They were deer, but the tigers come at night. Don't let the walls down..._

It was a mantra in her head.

She felt her eyes close slowly.

_This was a job. Lather, rinse and repeat. Don't let a single wall down. Mother is dead. Prim's screaming. Nails...hurt...she killed Rue. The tigers. They'll come. Snow tiger. Coming for you. Don't sleep. Peeta...Don't...survival. Rinse. Walls...eyes closing, so tired, don't..._

And then, she was screaming.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well. Aren't they all in deep sh-? Do you really believe that it'll work and that Snow won't wonder how two Peacekeepers just mysteriously disappeared within the Hall?  
> What did you think of the portrayal of Katniss' trauma? Also, the fact that she's being included in the group plans (which is a good thing, or else what would they do with the bodies?)?  
> Will update soon.  
> Thanks for all of your support!


	12. Setting The Canary Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, here we go. Just as a side note, I don't know exactly how I convinced myself that this fic is 37 chapters long- it's not. It's actually 47 chapters long, so I fixed that.
> 
> On to the chapter!

…

The walls were strong. Four years of daily training would do that. Besides, she didn't want to bring them down again. Whenever she did, bad things happened. She was dragged to the Mansion. She was tortured. She had to deal with vats of acid and blood-filled bathtubs and flecks of foreign flesh under her nails.

The walls created a fort for her mind. She was queen of the castle in there. It was dark and lonely, but it was better than serving her weaknesses up on a silver platter. No-one would hurt her again. They could arrest her, torture her, but her mind would remain free, kept jealously to herself like a caged bird. Not quite like a Mockingjay, though- that was the other Katniss, the wall-less Katniss, the Katniss who spat fire and who wasn't half as damaged as this.

The coal miners brought birds down to the mines. Canaries. They treated them like little pets, but the birds ensured their survival. When danger came, when deadly gas filled the mines, the canaries stopped singing, allowing the workers to evacuate safely.

Her thoughts were a canary in the cage of the walls she set up. She knew that one day, the canary would stop singing. That she'd suffer even more. But this was survival. It was instinctive. It couldn't be helped.

She ghosted through the Hall for three days after her return from the Mansion. During that time, she'd drained the most of the corpses and poured the remaining acid onto the last pieces of human waste. Then she'd evacuated that, too.

It quickly became clear that her fellow Victors were right in assuming that they wouldn't be suspected in the Peacekeepers' deaths. If an investigation was ongoing, no-one bothered knocking at their door. Still, that wasn't what Katniss feared the most.

She feared _herself_ the most. She was her greatest enemy. She would conjure images at night, images of Rue and Prim and Peeta and Gale and her mother and the fallen tributes and the Peacekeepers, and her mind would torture her into remembering her pain and fear, as well as inventing situations that had never happened. She didn't need this. Her clients were torture enough. She needn't remember the sensation of the knife picking off her nails, or Prim's screams, or Glimmer's swollen corpse. But she did.

Behind the walls, though, during the day, it was dark, and that meant that the monsters couldn't find her either.

The walls were strong enough that she couldn't taste the food she ate, that she couldn't feel the cold against her skin when she visited the rooftop. She thought about death. Thought about the peaceful look on little Rue's face, thought about the speed at which her mother had disappeared from the face of the earth. If that was death, if it was quick and peaceful, she'd rather go down that final road than stare into the darkness at night, chest heaving, as the memory of Cato's whimpers as the mutts ripped his skin away haunted her ears, clear as day. But, just like so many deaths she'd witnessed, Cato's wasn't painless. It wasn't peaceful. Death could be a torture in itself, one so strong that she wondered if the pain carried on long after the soul had departed the body, after the heart had stopped beating and the brain no longer communicated with oneself.

What would her death be like? Would it be _preferable_ to what she was living? Would she find peace?

Peeta _should_ have given the bread to the pig. She should have died years ago, had she known what her fate was to be. But then, little Primrose would be dead, too.

There was no use thinking of such matters now, but death and her memories was all that remained, trapped inside the walls she'd put up. She wouldn't let them down again, not even to let the pain escape.

She barely noticed the other Victors, couldn't care for their plotting anymore. Let them plot, if it helped them get through their daily hell, in the same way her walls helped her. She did see the occasional worried glance, as though they feared her...or feared _for_ her? She didn't know. She'd never been good at reading others. Annie, Enobaria and Finnick asked her occasionnally how she felt. She'd shrug them off. Did it matter? She felt _numb_. She felt empty, with only her suicidal thoughts for company.

She didn't know what to make of the fact that she didn't go through with it. It wasn't cowardice, she knew as much. It would be easy to take a kitchen knife, slit her wrists, and fall asleep, sitting in a warm bath that would quickly dull the pain. It just seemed like such an effort, though. Each step she took was painful, each time she swallowed tired her- she put the minimum effort into going through the motions. She was too tired. She'd rather lie on her bed, eyes closed, mind wandering between District 12 and her father.

Haymitch called. She watched as his photo lit up the wall. She might have answered, had she been closer to the holophone. She couldn't be bothered to get up, though, so she simply stared until the call stopped. This was different from what she'd spent four years being used to.

She hadn't been this tired before. She hadn't been this numb. She'd been cold and withdrawn, keeping up the pretense, but now, the walls remained on their own, without any help on her part.

Then, on the fourth day, she shattered, and she knew she was truly fucked.

She was walking to the kitchen, wanting to grab a bottle of water- she didn't eat much these days. It was too great an effort- when Gloss appeared in front of her, Cashmere sidling along behind him. Gloss looked at her through narrowed eyes, a slight frown marring his handsome features, and she stopped in front of him, not even energic enough to ask him to move aside and let her pass.

Then suddenly, Gloss' arms were around her middle and he pulled her to him in a bone-crushing hug. Katniss' eyes widened and she tried to pull away, but his grip on her only tightened, and she gave in suddenly, feeling the fight go out of her.

The walls crashed down, and to her everlasting shock, she felt her eyes brim with tears.

“Wherever you are, Katniss,” he whispered in her ear, “come back to us.”

And _just like that_ , she broke down sobbing. She felt Gloss pick her up bridal-style, and he set her down on the sofa in the District Room- not that she was truly aware of her environment- and he never let go, sitting beside her, hugging her, as she held onto him as though he was the only thing keeping her from drowning.

She felt the sofa dip as Cashmere sat down on the other side, and then the blonde woman's arms were around her back, her hands wrapping around her middle, and it felt strangely right, and safe, sandwiched between the two of them.

She cried relentlessly, body wracked by soul-searing sobs, sometimes choking on the lack of air provoked by her current state of upset. It was painful. It was _terrifying_ , and she didn't know how to make it stop. She felt Cashmere hum gently, caressing her hair, and she cried and cried and _cried_.

The walls remained in the dust they'd created. There was no building them again. She felt fear and pain run through her veins, through her head. She felt regret at everything she'd become, at everything the Capitol had made her do. She felt renewed hatred for President Snow pulse throughout her, giving her a _purpose_. It was violent. It was _shocking_.

But after some time, the pain and the fear and the violence ebbed away, and she felt new feelings slip around her mind, mingling with the horror, cleansing it, replacing it. She felt grateful for Cashmere and Gloss' interference. She felt loved. She felt valued. If she wasn't, they wouldn't have helped her. She remembered Annie's shy smile and Johanna's fierce scowl and Enobaria's dark eyes glittering with mirth. She thought of the way Finnick's cheeky disposition could make her laugh at the strangest of times, even when she was meant to ignore him. She remembered the way Peeta used to look at her, as though she was the very reason his heart was beating. She thought of her mother's soothing touch and Gale's belts of laughter and Prim's sweet smile. She remembered Rue flying through the trees and the way Peeta and her would joke about Effie's annoying catchphrases and that one time, now hilarious, when Haymitch rolled offstage at the Reaping. She remembered Cinna's eyes narrow in pride at her and her obnoxious but harmless prep team fussing over her. She remembered her father singing and the cookies Peeta's dad had offered her at the Reaping, although she was to be his son's enemy.

It was as if she was warring with herself- the good and the bad, the love and the hatred, the happiness and the sorrow, and for a while, as she clutched onto Gloss, crying her heart out, she wondered which side would win.

Her tears dried up slowly as her eyes began itching. She was tired, but this was healthy, more so than she'd felt in days. She'd reached a stalemate- but a stalemate was better than wherever she'd been a few hours ago.

She rubbed her eyes, slightly embarrassed, and felt Gloss relinquish his hold on her somewhat. Cashmere still petted her hair, and she felt herself relax into the feeling. They didn't speak for a long time, content with just holding each other, and Katniss suddenly realized that this was what she'd been missing for years.

_They were her. She was them_. And maybe that wasn't entirely a bad thing.

“Thank you,” she whispered, glancing at Gloss, and his eyes were shining with understanding. She needn't develop- for that she was glad.

“We're a family,” he returned, voice calm.

“And we don't let our family hurt,” Cashmere added, her hand brushing her brother's.

Katniss nodded. She had a headache now, but she needed to say something to make them understand just how grateful she was, although she still felt lost and worried.

“Just don't force me to call Finnick my brother,” she joked softly, and both siblings burst out laughing.

They remained that way for a long time, Gloss and Cashmere hugging her between them, and she wondered at the fact that the siblings, of all people, would help her in her time of need. Not that she actually knew that much about them, anyway- a fact that made her curious now. She'd expected Finnick or Annie to try to coax her out of her shell, but they weren't here now, and the siblings were. It went to show that she'd sorely misjudged Cashmere and Gloss- she'd have pegged them as the cold, calculating, disdainful kind. And they weren't.

She'd missed out on so much whilst withdrawn from the group, and she suddenly realized what Haymitch had meant when he'd said she'd suffer less if they'd suffer together- it meant she worried for a greater number of people, but it also meant that a greater number of people cared about her. She could get used to this- maybe not the physical part of it, because she doubted she'd be able to go around hugging people in such a manner- but having support. _Their_ support. There was strength in that, and strength was power. It gave her wings. It meant that she could go through her job, go through the nightmares, and she could understand and be understood.

_They were her and she was them._

Her shell was cracked. Best make the most of the situation- and it wasn't all a calculated measure to help herself- her heart thudded against her chest when she remembered the way Finnick had opposed the Peacekeepers, when she remembered the way Annie would always set the table for eight, when she remembered how Johanna had pulled Peeta out of harm's way when she'd been arrested. These people cared about each other, and despite the way she'd behaved towards them, they considered her to be one of their own. No questions asked. They may have excluded her from their meetings and their plans, but they still watched out for her.

She owed them- she hated owing people. But she couldn't bring herself to care right now- she just had to show them how grateful she was for their help. Just like Gale had helped her survive years ago by teaching her how to trap and hunt, the Victors had helped her survive by reminding her that she was never alone, no matter how hard she tried to be. Had they not been there, maybe she'd have gone mad years ago.

So she simply raised her head after a while, turning around, and she hesitantly kissed Cashmere on the cheek. The blonde woman raised her eyebrows in surprise, and Katniss said,

“Thank you.”

_Thank you, not just for this, but for everything. Thank you for being my shadow, for warding the pain away and protecting me when I didn't realize you were doing so. Thank you for making this easy on me when I don't actually deserve it._ So many things she wanted to say and didn't know how to word- but when Cashmere smiled at her, she knew that her fellow Victor understood.

Glad she was doing it right, she then turned to Gloss and kissed his cheek as well.

“Say, Cash, do you know where- oh.”

Katniss jumped in her skin, turning toward the door, eyes wide open. Peeta was standing there, glancing between her and Gloss, and she suddenly felt slightly guilty under his gaze. Which was _ridiculous_. She was having a heartfelt moment here, not- she suddenly realized he'd seen her peck Gloss' cheek. It must come across as weird, maybe even insulting to him, she thought- that she'd spent years ignoring him and then he stumbled upon her in a group hug with the siblings. And kissing Gloss.

“Nevermind,” he muttered, turning to the door.

“Peeta,” Gloss' voice rang out. “I'm _not_.”

Whatever he meant by that, Peeta seemed to understand, because he glanced at Gloss and replied somewhat coldly,

“Whatever, man.”

Then he was out of the door, and Katniss couldn't stand it. She was sick and tired of this. Whatever she'd done in the past, she was hellbent on befriending the Victors now- and Peeta was a Victor. They would have that conversation, whether he liked it or not.

She shot out of the District Room, catching up to him in the corridor as he reached his room, and stopped him by tugging his sleeve. He glanced down at her fingers, then up into her face.

“Peeta,” she whispered. “Please. I don't know...I don't care what Haymitch said. I'm not doing this for him.”

She was doing it for _her_. For _them_. He needed to understand that. He closed his eyes and she didn't miss the pain that ignited them when he opened them again. Gently, he reached down and pried her fingers from his arm. Her hand lingered in his for a moment before she withdrew it slowly, and he sighed, opening the door to his room.

“I'm sorry, Katniss,” he replied earnestly, voice soft. “I can't do this. I can't...”

Then he disappeared into his bedroom, leaving her alone, and she hesitated as the door shut softly. She felt empty- _abandoned_ , and she suddenly realized that this is what Peeta had probably felt for years. So she nodded to herself, respecting his decision- if he needed time, she'd give that to him. He deserved as much. Even if it took months, years- as long as it wasn't _forever_.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! What did you think? There's progress here, after all- Katniss accepts to let her walls down for good, and decides out of the bottom of her heart to befriend the others, not just because Haymitch told her to.  
> As for Peeta, his rejection of her will be explained next chapter. But it's good to see that Katniss is ready to wait for him to accept her back into his life- that goes to show that she's really into making things between them work and she's not just in it out of curiosity.
> 
> Next chapter up in a couple of days, as usual!


	13. Liquor Aiding

…

She wasn't surprised when her name turned up on the schedule again, the following evening. She'd been expecting it- actually, what _did_ surprise her was the fact that President Snow had let her have five full days to get over her torture session in the Mansion, given that she didn't have any visible injuries. She suspected that he'd thought she'd need the time to get back into mental shape as well, so that she wouldn't have a meltdown in the face of a client or something of that nature.

A lifetime wouldn't erase the memory.

Still, it was a mere hourly visit- she'd never seen the client before, a young, almost shy man who'd told her that his friends had bought her for him. She believed he wouldn't have had the money for her otherwise. She knew that an hour of her time could provide for a Seam family of four during ten full years, so she wasn't really surprised.

She made her way to her bedroom to shower and change, and then hesitated for a moment. Usually, she'd stay in her room, staring into nothing, or make her way up to the rooftop to at least stare at _something_ , but she was past that point now. She wondered who else wasn't working tonight, or who else was done early, and she made her way to the District Room.

Peeta was sitting on the sofa, staring into the fireplace, bottle of white liquor between his fingers. She froze, and when he glanced at her, he froze too. Then he shook his head slightly, and, biting her lip, she approached and tentatively sat on the armchair opposite him, feeling his eyes follow her. They were alone, seemingly for a while- she knew she should take this opportunity to talk to him, but her mind was suddenly blank and she didn't know where to begin.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Peeta interrupted, voice slurred.

“Must warn you, Katniss,” he said. “'M drunk.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“How productive,” she snapped, eyeing the bottle with distaste. Last time she'd touched the stuff, Johanna had been arrested and she'd been unable to help her, in part because of the alcohol.

Actually, that might have been a good thing.

Wordlessly, she leaned forward, her arm brushing against his and sending a quirky shiver up her back, and grabbed the bottle. He frowned, but she simply tossed her head back and took a long swig. He chuckled, leaning back into the sofa, eyeing her with no small amount of mirth, smirking.

“So you wanna be productive with me, sweetheart?” he asked, voice still slurred.

“They call it liquid courage,” she returned, shrugging.

“Ah, so you wanna be _brave_ ,” he realized, and the smirk playing around his lips disappeared. “What'd'you wanna be brave for, Katniss?”

“Well, I'd like to have a conversation with you,” she declared, taking another sip before setting the bottle down at her feet, out of his reach.

“Ah-huh,” he muttered, smirk returning in full force. When he looked at her like that, eyes twinkling, that cheeky expression set, his light hair slightly mussed, he was nothing short of gorgeous, she thought. “Guess we can't escape it forever, but...” he chuckled again, hand raking through his hair, “right now, 'm drunk, Katniss.”

She sighed and crossed her arms on her chest.

“That actually makes it easier for me,” she muttered as he squinted at her. “As long as you remember the gist of it in the morning.” She uncrossed her arms, glancing at him uneasily. “I wanted to say sorry.”

“Sorry for stealing my bottle?” he complained petulantly.

“Wh- no. Will you listen, Peeta Mellark, or do I have to force you to?”

“'K, babe. 'M listening.”

She rolled her eyes but continued. Peeta may be too drunk to be having this discussion right now, but if it was the only moment that he'd allow her near him, she was going to make the best out of it.

“I wanted to say sorry for the past four years,” she said, eyes in the fireplace- drunk or not, she didn't dare look at him. “I've been- I haven't been feeling well at all. And that means that in turn, I didn't treat you right. I didn't want you or the others close to me because I thought that it'd make me weak. Because it hurt to see you. You were a reminder of everything that had happened to me and I acted poorly because of it. I knew that it was hurtful to you, but I couldn't bring myself to care because that behaviour protected me- or so I thought, anyway. You were right to turn me away when we talked in your room- I wasn't there because I wanted to, I was there because Haymitch told me to. Things are different, now, though, and even if...even if you don't forgive me, I just wanted to let you know that I know I fucked up and I'm sorry.”

She grabbed the bottle at her feet. There was so much more she wanted to say, but it was more difficult than she thought it would be. She'd never been one to put things into words like he did. For that matter, she wasn't one to admit she was wrong- she was too proud for that. She really hoped he remembered all this in the morning because she certainly wasn't saying it again.

Peeta leaned forward and, after a few throatfuls of the liquor, she was able to look at him again.

“That must have been difficult for you to say,” he said, and his voice was a bit less slurred- maybe because her words had had a sobering effect on him. “And _I'm_ sorry, Katniss, for holding you to your hurtful behaviour. I should have tried harder to get through that shell of yours.”

“A wise woman once told me that you can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved,” she muttered, handing him the bottle.

“Ah, _Annie_ ,” he nodded, amused, before taking a swig. “That's her kind of line for sure.”

Katniss' lips twisted into a grin at that. There was a short silence, then he spoke again.

“So. Are you and Gloss a thing now, or...” his voice trailed off.

Katniss turned to him, eyes wide. He'd sounded so confident, but now, he was staring at the flames again, refusing to meet her eyes.

“ _What_? No. Gloss and Cashmere...they helped me yesterday. I'm not...I was just saying thanks. I kissed Cashmere too.”

She wasn't really sure why she was justifying herself- Peeta didn't have any feelings for her, not anymore. The fact that he'd spent three years returning her silent treatment proved as much.

“Oh,” he said, simply, and she narrowed her eyes.

“You and Johanna?”

He spluttered at that, sitting upright, nearly choking on his drink, eyes wide.

“What the f- absolutely _not_ ,” he managed to wheeze out after a while. “Jo...I know this may come across as weird to you because you spend your time fighting with her, but...she's really sweet. She's like a sister to me. But less bothersome, because she doesn't want to braid my hair and shit.”

Katniss laughed outright at that. She'd missed him- and she hadn't realized how much. This was her Peeta. This funny, gentle, slightly awkward Peeta was the one she remembered.

 _The one she'd almost fallen for in the arena_...

That thought made her stop laughing immediately. Peeta didn't seem to notice- he was staring at her, smiling softly as though he was proud of his ability to make her laugh.

“So,” she asked. “Am I forgiven?”

“You don't have anything to be forgiven for, Katniss,” he answered, handing her the bottle after a long drink.

“Does this mean I can sit here and get drunk with you?”

He grinned at that.

“You're very welcome to.” His smile fell suddenly as he glanced into the fireplace. “Just so you know- I'm not jealous of Gloss or anything. Even if you and him...well, you know...you have every right. I understand.”

“Peeta,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “I'm not with Gloss. I don't want to be with Gloss. I don't have any feelings for Gloss, except a growing friendship and respect.”

He nodded, still looking unsure, and she felt compelled- probably by the alcohol- to add,

“It wasn't Gloss they used against me in the Mansion.” She drank again, her thirst seemingly endless now, although her head was swimming slightly. “It was Prim. And Rue. And you.”

He inhaled sharply, but she didn't look at him.

“Why me?” he asked. “You love Prim. You loved Rue. The Capitol knows our... _love_...was for show.”

She squirmed in her seat.

“It's not because I didn't want to have a relationship with you that I didn't l...love you,” she answered, tweaking the truth somewhat- she didn't want to have a relationship _ordered by the Capitol_ with him. Had it been just the two of them, it could have very well happened- had they not been busy saving their lives, at least. “You were my friend. Of course I lo...love my friends.”

She took another sip, regretting this conversation now, but Peeta merely sighed.

“I thought you were working tonight,” he said, and she turned to him, surprised at the turn in their conversation. He laughed, and it was bitter, before indicating the bottle with a jerky movement of the chin. “This is what I do. When I'm not working and you are.”

“Why?” she asked, dumbfounded.

“Because I can't stand the thought of the one person I have loved more than life itself in a bedroom upstairs. When you were arrested, Johanna knew...she just _knew_ I couldn't let you go without trying anything, and if she and Gloss hadn't interfered, we'd all be dead by now. And when you were gone, I just- I couldn't take it, Katniss. What was the point of convincing myself to be indifferent to you when I'm not?” He breathed in, the sound ragged and painful. “I couldn't...I thought it would kill me, sweetheart. That's why I couldn't...yesterday, when you wanted to talk. I- I can't lose you again.”

Her heart thudded painfully against her chest. Peeta may not be in love with her anymore, but he cared enough to poison himself into partial amnesy when she was with a client. That was Peeta- so whole, so uncannily caring that he'd rather drink his way into an early grave than dwell on the thought of the girl he'd once loved being used and raped. Peeta who had suffered just as much as she had when she'd been arrested- Peeta who still had her back, no matter how she may treat him. Peeta who didn't expect her to repay that debt, Peeta for who it was normal, Peeta who was so fucking good and pure in her eyes that he could _outshine the sun_...

She didn't know what to say to that, and she was almost glad when Finnick burst into the room, striking hilariously exagerrated poses as he entered.

“No, please,” he begged, pouting into the distance. “Stop the cameras, I can't take it anymore!”

Then, flashing them a huge grin, he let himself fall into the sofa next to Peeta.

“Kitty Cat,” he sing-songed. “Give that bottle, will you, love?”

Katniss rolled her eyes but handed him the bottle.

“Careful, Kitty Cat,” he taunted gently, taking a swig. “Or you'll end up as an old drunk like us.” He smacked his lips, leaning back before grinning again. “So, what did I interrupt? Was it foreplay? ...tell me it was foreplay. I'm sure I have a camera somewhere in my room, if you'll let me grab it, you could-”

“No foreplay, Odair,” Peeta drawled, snatching the bottle back.

“What do you mean, no foreplay?” Finnick pouted. “No sex? What is the world coming to?”

“Apparently, not the next generation of Mellarks,” Katniss quipped, feeling the laughter bubbling in her chest. Both Finnick and, to her surprise, Peeta joined her. She'd most certainly had too much to drink, but she couldn't bring herself to regret it. When was the last time she'd laughed so carefreely? She wiped away the tears of mirth as watched the two of them, mostly Peeta. She hadn't really been able to look at him, truly look at him, in four years.

Time hadn't made him any worse-looking. He was still gorgeous, in her opinion. What little baby fat he'd kept into teenagehood had melted away, and she was no longer looking at the boy but at the man- all broad shoulders and clean-shaven face.

“Annie working?” Peeta asked, and Finnick's eyes darkened slightly before he snatched up the bottle again, taking a long drink. Was this how they coped? By drinking the knowledge away, all of them?

“Yeah,” he said, and Katniss knew he'd meant the word to fall easily from his lips, but his throat still caught on it.

“Pity,” Peeta remarked, stealing the bottle again. “Or else you could have gone and gotten laid, and left us in peace.”

Finnick sat straighter, looking outraged.

“How dare you,” he fumed, slapping the back of his hand to his forehead dramatically. “How could you reject me so, Ô beloved one? Woe betide thee.”

“Woe betide thee?” Peeta repeated, unimpressed, as Katniss chuckled.

“Woe betide not only thee, but also thine ancestors, thy cat and thy cigar stash,” Finnick moaned.

The two young men began bickering at one another, trading copious insults, and Katniss watched them quietly, laughing occasionally.

The route she'd decided to take would be a difficult and somewhat painful one, she knew. But if this was the result, she'd walk it until her legs couldn't carry her anymore. She'd made the right decision by allowing them in her life.

She had Peeta back. Wasn't that worth every torture in the world?

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go. Quicker than what some expected, but Peeta was drunk. Thank you, Finnick, for helping out with the tension there- we love you, man.


	14. Ignition

…

It became usual, after that night, for Katniss to integrate the group. Whenever she returned from work, she'd join whoever was in the District Room- sometimes they'd chat and drink, and sometimes she'd be invited to play a game of cards or something similar.

After a couple of weeks, she stopped looking over her shoulder whenever she heard a noise.

She was glad to have Peeta back. She'd worried he would forget their conversation, but the next morning, she'd entered the kitchen when he was there and he'd smiled tentatively at her before offering her some bread. It tasted heavenly, of course. After that, there were no more deep conversations, something that made her glad- they only talked when with the other Victors. Katniss was somewhat relieved by that- she still wasn't sure what to make of her feelings for him, still wasn't certain of where she stood, and she didn't really want to be alone with him until she sorted them out.

There was admiration and deep liking there. There was awe and mutual respect and the closeness that comes with facing death together. She found him gorgeous, of course, but she wasn't sure what it all meant. She didn't care for him like she cared for the other Victors- the friendship she felt for him was deeper, more intimate.

Enobaria and Gloss were always awake before anyone else. When the nightmares kept her up, Katniss had often seen them, over the years, draped over the sofa in the District Room, reading the morning papers and stifling their yawns in huge bowls of black coffee.

She'd dreamed of Peeta that night. They were back in the cave, and this time, there was no medication for his leg. She'd watched his eyes close for the last time as she begged him to stay with her...

She was up early, and decided, for once, to have a cup of tea in the District Room. She was sure that at this point, Gloss and Enobaria wouldn't mind having her company.

She padded towards the kitchen, yawning, and prepared her cup of tea before knocking at the District Room door with a frown. Usually, they left the door open. She didn't wait for an answer and entered, blowing on the hot brew.

Gloss and Enobaria were sitting side by side, huddled over the morning paper, eyes widening when they saw her. She noticed that Gloss quickly hid the paper by his side and narrowed her eyes, but her fatigue-addled brain couldn't quite make sense of the gesture and she misinterpreted his hurried action.

“Oh gosh, I'm sorry,” she gasped. “I'm not...I'm not interrupting anything, am I? I mean...you two...”

“Of course not!” Gloss answered immediately, and Enobaria shot him a quick glance. “I mean- no, you're not interrupting. For the rest...” He grinned. “We keep that to the bedroom.”

Enobaria rolled her eyes and Katniss nodded mutely. She'd suspected that they were in a relationship. Maybe not one as strong as Finnick and Annie's, but still...Gloss had killed two people to defend her honour, after all.

“Please, Katniss,” Enobaria said politely. “Have a seat.”

Katniss hesitated, but shuffled towards an armchair, taking a sip of the scorching tea.

“Nightmares?” Enobaria asked gently, and she nodded.

“Do you...do you ever get them?”

Gloss nodded with a sigh.

“All the time. The fact that we're Careers doesn't mean that we're tributes by choice.”

Katniss nodded slowly, remembering Haymitch's words in regards to the volunteers for the Games not actually wanting to be. Gloss, Cashmere, Enobaria, Finnick...she'd forgotten that they were Careers. It had been one of the driving points behind her rejection of them when she'd arrived in the Hall, though- she hadn't trusted them in part because of that small detail. During her own Games, the Careers had been entirely focused on hunting down the girl who scored an eleven.

They'd had murder driven into them from a young age. The Capitol had taken away their choice in the crib. At least, in other districts, you could hope- in their own, there was no hope. There was only duty, and if you could walk, you could swing a knife. And she suspected that they'd been taught to love the Capitol for it.

“So,” she cleared her throat, willing to bring the conversation to more neutral grounds- Gloss had a quick tongue, and the room was bugged- “anything interesting in this morning's papers?”

She didn't read them herself. The newspapers only gave information relevant to the Capitol- the current television shows, the glorious President Snow's political genius and his family's splendor, the latest fashion, news of the Victors- all of it propaganda, supposed to entertain the Capitolites, and owned by Snow himself. Sometimes, there was a feature about the second-class citizens in the districts- pompous pieces with pretty photos of well-fed farmers and craftsmen, declaring how proud they were to be able to contribute to the Capitol's welfare. A load of tosh.

Gloss and Enobaria exchanged a quick glance, and Katniss, feeling the tea running through her system now, narrowed her eyes at them again. Then Gloss stood, shoving the paper into the back of his trousers, smiling demurely.

“How about some pieces of toast?” he asked. “And some jam. I'll go fetch that immediat-”

“Gloss,” Katniss said slowly, her mind suddenly connecting his strange behaviour. “I'd like to see that paper, please.”

Gloss glanced at Enobaria, mouth hanging open, but she seemed at a loss for words, too. Slowly, defeat etched on his handsome traits, he pulled the paper from his trousers and handed it over to her.

“Katniss,” Enobaria whispered. “It's just- ah. You're not going to- I'm sorry.”

Katniss stared at her for a moment, then unfolded the newspaper, and her heart jumped to her throat at the photo staring back at her- the photo of a handsome, smiling young man, with dark hair and olive skin...

Gale hadn't changed much either. Her fingers ran over the photo lovingly as she drank him in. Her eyes flickered to the bold, capital-lettered headline.

_GIRL ON FIRE'S BELOVED COUSIN DIES IN TRAGIC ACCIDENT_

She blinked and re-read the title, feeling the colours drain from her face. Her fingers felt numb. Without thinking, she flipped through the pages to the article, barely comprehending the letters jumping out of the paper at her.

_Gale Hawthorne, 22...mining accident...Panem's ladies' darling...leaving behind a mother and three siblings..._

She closed the paper again, staring at Gale's photo, feeling her heart beat too fast. So fast that she had to breath in several times before she managed to speak.

“He wanted me to see this,” she whispered. “Snow. He wanted me to...that's why it's the cover. They didn't cover my mother's death...”

Gale was gone. Gale was _dead_. And she knew _exactly_ why.

“I didn't talk,” she murmured. “I didn't give him what he wanted. This is my punishment.”

Gale was dead because of her.

_Gale was dead._

She felt her body tense up and tears fall upon the paper, smudging the headline. Snow did this. He was tormenting her again. She didn't know why he'd released her, but she now knew that he'd never meant to leave her alone- _he'd been spying on her ever since_. Suddenly, it became important that the other Victors know that. It was a small detail, but maybe it could save their lives.

“He wanted to kill me,” she said, looking at Gloss and Enobaria who seemed frozen. “He said so when he had me arrested. That he'd give me a clean death when I gave him what he wanted. I wasn't supposed to make it out of the Mansion alive.”

Understanding dawned in Enobaria's eyes, and Katniss looked back down at Gale. Fiery, handsome Gale, who had kissed her before the Victory Tour, who had waited for her to return to him, and she never had. Gale who had dreamed of the revolution- Gale who probably had had a heavy hand in the uprisings. She was so proud of him.

And he'd died for it.

Gale was never meant to die. Her mother was never meant to die. She'd played her cards to ensure that. Her sister and Gale's family were now in grave danger- she'd upheld her end of the bargain, and President Snow had violated that.

_There would be hell to pay for it_.

She'd felt sadness after her mother died. She'd felt lonely and abandoned and orphaned. But she wasn't _sad_ now. Gale wasn't a sad figure- he was full of simmering anger and frustration towards the Capitol, and that anger was unfurling in her chest now. He'd spoken once, in the woods, about everything that was wrong with the Capitol, wrong with their lives- the oppression, the flawed justice, the poverty, the starvation, the life-threatening work conditions, the Games, the fact that everyone just soldiered through quietly. He'd dreamed of a better world. A world where they wouldn't have to hunt into the night to keep their families fed a few days more, a world where the threat of death didn't hover over their heads for refusing to lick the President's arse, a world where the little children could marvel over the butterflies in the meadow instead of crying by their parents' graves. And she wanted that world, too.

She'd give it to Gale. Too late, perhaps- but he'd have it. Little Posy would never be reaped. His brothers could be doctors or fishermen or farmers, whatever they wanted to be. He'd given her hope, once- he'd given her life. She'd give him the world.

The tears kept flowing but she didn't mind them, didn't mind that she was falling apart in front of her two fellow Victors. The only thing she could think of was Gale's hatred for their cruel society, and she made it her own- she would build that better place that existed only in their minds. Gone were the days where Katniss Everdeen hid behind her mind's walls- she would carry his memory, his dream, even if it meant death, even if it meant torture. Then if she failed, maybe they could carry out his dream on the other side, wherever that was.

Some people believed that something existed after death, something better, peaceful, and where one could come to no harm. She'd never believed it, but she was willing to, if it meant that she'd see Gale again. Gale and her parents and Rue. Maybe the people she'd killed would be willing to forgive her in that beautiful place, too.

She remembered what Haymitch had said about the Career tributes again. They'd wanted lives of their own. They'd wanted glory, and after glory, they'd wanted peace.

Peace never came to the Victors, Careers or not. She would have gladly switched places with any one of the Fallen had she known what winning entailed. The prostitution. The nightmares. Their screams piercing her ears every night, their blood tainting her soul. No amount of luxury would ever change that.

The Careers wanted to live. The other tributes wanted to live. If her estimations were correct, since the beginning of the games, over seventy-eight years prior, one thousand eight hundred and sixteen children had been slaughtered to the delight of the Capitol. Not one of them wanted to die. Not one of them wanted to suffer. The people in the districts were kept in line harshly- she vividly remembered Rue telling her that the punishment in 11 for eating the food they picked for the Capitol was death, even for children. How many had died because the Capitol had deemed it so, even before the beginning of the Hunger Games? The districts hadn't rebelled for nothing back then. 13 may be gone, but its memory was no longer sufficient for the masses.

And if the masses wanted the Mockingjay, she would unclip her wings and fly again. For Gale. For her mother and Rue and Cato and Glimmer and Foxface and Thresh and so many others. She wasn't alone. If her suspicions were correct, the Victors had a part to play in all this.

She stood, gripping the paper between tight fingers, and made her way to her room, ignoring Enobaria's unsure calls, and she closed the door quietly and sat on her bed.

Gale had been her best friend. Her _only_ friend, until her Games. He had been there for her since their fathers had died. Although four years had come and gone, the memory of him was still clear.

She should have kissed him back, outside the fence...

But where would they be now? She'd still be a whore in Victory Hall, and Gale wouldn't have understood why his girlfriend didn't come back. He'd see her giggle and dance and eat at parties during the mandatory viewings and believe she'd betrayed him. He probably believed that anyway. That thought sent a fresh, dizzying surge of anger through her- he'd died without ever knowing the truth. He'd died thinking she'd turned her back to her family.

She wouldn't sit back and let Snow kill off those she loved, one by one. She could only hope that Haymitch would be able to protect Prim. If she lost her, she wasn't sure whether she'd survive such a blow.

And that thought brought her to her fellow Victors. They hadn't let the situation get them down. They'd stood and fought from the very beginning, knowing what it would cost them. She would kill anyone who tried to harm Finnick or Johanna or Cashmere or any of the others.

She would _burn the world to the ground_ before she let anyone hurt Peeta.

Her tears dried as she stared at Gale's smiling portrait. She could mope and cry eternally over his death, or she could stare his killers right in their faces and flip them off before shooting a flaming arrow at their hearts. And her choice was already made.

Someone knocked at the door, but she couldn't answer- her throat was too tight. It opened anyway, and Finnick was standing there, arms crossed, staring her down. There was something provocative about the way he carried himself, feet firmly apart, dangerous glint in his eye. This wasn't a social visit to make sure that she was alright in light of the news. This was something else entirely, and she knew what he was going to say before he said it.

“Hey, Girl on Fire,” he stated, voice calm. “Ready to burn the house to the ground?”

She set the newspaper on her pillow without saying anything in return, and when he held out his hand to her, palm up, she was on her feet, striding towards him and grabbing it tightly, allowing him to pull her gently out of her bedroom and down the corridor towards the Arena Room.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, my dears, there you go-back to business within the Hall. I want to add that I'm quite unwell at the moment and that I'm expecting an emergency operation by the middle of the week. I hope I'll manage to publish at least another chapter before then, but I can't make any promises.  
> The upside is that I'll be bedridden for some time, so at least I'll have time to write and publish more after Christmas.
> 
> If I don't get to publish another chapter before then, Happy Christmas, everyone!
> 
> PS. I think my count of the Fallen in this Chapter was correct- 78 editions of the Hunger Games, meaning 78x24, plus 24 during the 50th Hunger Games, minus 79 Victors (77 lone Victors and the 2 winners, Peeta and Katniss, of the 74th Hunger Games). Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong.


	15. Secrets For Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone! Hope you had a great time with family and friends for Christmas and the New Year. Without further ado, the chapter!

…

This time, Katniss needed no help in seating herself at the end of the table, and for once, she felt included from the moment she walked in. Everyone was already there, and everyone offered her sympathetic smiles as she entered.

Gale wouldn't have wanted sympathy, though, so she sat down, steepling her fingers, and waited until Finnick was sitting as well, his hand on Annie's thigh. There was a brief silence, as though no-one truly knew how to begin the conversation, which made her already thin patience sizzle out entirely.

“I have been arrested and tortured by the Capitol,” she reminded them coolly, eyes flickering over each and every one of them. “My mother has been murdered by the Capitol. My...” her breathing hitched slightly, but she powered on. “My best friend, Gale, has been murdered by the Capitol. All of this,” she made a waving gesture, “is because President Snow is absolutely convinced that I hold information in regards to the current uprisings in the districts, which have apparently been continued since the 74th Hunger Games, and which seem to have picked up steam recently.” She marked a short pause, glancing between them, before adding, “I'm willing to die if need be, but I need to know why.”

Unsurprisingly, Finnick was the one to answer her.

“Your actions during your Games sparked more than an uprising, Katniss. They sparked a civil war.”

Her eyes widened slightly at the descriptive, but she didn't interrupt. Annie spoke next.

“When you arrived at the Hall, we were banking on you. We believed that the girl who had sparked the Revolution would be the one to guide us through it. But then...you distanced yourself from us. That was problematic, but we weren't ready to let the opportunity go to waste.”

“Peeta was on board immediately,” Gloss added. “However, we in Victory Hall had already been dreaming about possible change for years. At first, it was whispers, dreams only. But then...Mags called Finnick.”

“She explained to me that Haymitch Abernathy's tributes were something else,” Finnick said, smiling softly. “To keep an eye open. And then, she had us contact Haymitch.”

“Haymitch had been plotting behind the scenes for years,” Cashmere explained. “We were up for it at once. We had the ideas, but what we needed was the numbers, and we didn't have that.”

“But then you two came along, and despite knowing nothing about the Revolution we were trying to start, you acted brilliantly,” Annie smiled. “You set the districts on fire.”

“District 8 was the first to revolt,” Johanna drawled, looking every bit as though the conversation bored her. “Then, after Rue's death, 11 quickly joined the movement.”

“After your Victory Tour, Districts 3 and 6 began rioting,” Finnick added.

“The other districts- save for Districts 1 and 2- have had their moments,” Enobaria said. “The true challenge has been to maintain the districts in a state of unrest over four years, but that had nothing to do with your withdrawal- the districts are divided, Katniss, the Capitol sees to that, and we've been having trouble reuniting them.”

“On their own, the districts can be kept in check by the Capitol, so we need them all to rebel, together,” Johanna stated. “But in order to do that, we need a symbol, something they can rally around. Something that gives them matter to believe.”

There was a short silence, then Peeta leaned forward, speaking for the first time.

“We need the _Mockingjay_ ,” he said, and Katniss' heart thudded in her chest.

“That's what provoked the uprisings in the first place. That's what's been lacking,” Annie pointed out. “That's _you_ , Katniss.”

“Peeta has done brilliantly on his own,” Enobaria admitted, smiling at the blonde man, “but your help would be vital.”

There was a silence again as Katniss mulled this over, finding something very wrong with what they were explaining.

“There's something I don't understand,” she claimed, frowning. “You couldn't have communicated with the districts through Haymitch and Mags only. Even admitting that the other mentors and other Victors are still out there, and let's pretend for a moment that they all want the Revolution- I mean, come on, I've met Brutus and the man's so in love with Snow I thought he was going to drop his pants in the middle of the dance floor- you still couldn't have communicated directives with the majority of the districts.”

“First off,” Finnick said with a chuckle, “don't let appearances fool you- Brutus was one of the first Victors to join the Revolution bandwagon. Second of all- you're very right, Katniss, we couldn't have gotten through to all of the districts.”

“Besides,” Enobaria pointed out, “we're not really issuing directives either. We're giving the Revolution much more.”

“What's that?” Katniss frowned.

Finnick winked at her, pulling a sugar cube from his pocket.

“Secrets,” he said. “That's our trade. We fuck the most influent Capitolites- don't tell me you haven't had at least a few clients who would give you unasked for information about themselves whilst basking in the glow of hypocrite, paid satisfaction?”

Her eyebrows rose slowly as she realized the importance of that, her mind reeling. How many times had clients talked to her, indeed? She'd watch them lie there with utter disgust they seemed impervious to and tell her about their daily lives, about the political scheming they engaged in, about who-bedded-whom within the Presidential household, about their plans for the future and their enemies' secrets.

That was a treasure trove, she realized.

“But then who gives the orders?” she asked again. “If it's not the Victors...”

Johanna burst into laughter, as though she'd just joked about something.

“Ah, innocent Mockingjay,” she exclaimed. “Who else but the worst of Snow's enemies?”

The _innocent Mockingjay_ glared at her.

“Alma Coin,” Annie informed a nonplussed Katniss.

She frowned.

“Doesn't ring any bells.”

“That is entirely normal,” Finnick said, chewing his sugar cube. “Given that she is the self-elected President of District 13.”

Katniss was certain that she could have heard a pin drop in the silence that followed.

“You're kidding,” she finally breathed. “13 is gone. There is no District 13. Hasn't been for seventy-nine years.”

“District 13 specialized in nuclear,” Cashmere reminded her. “When they threatened to let loose their weaponry on the Capitol, the President at the time signed a secret pact with them. 13 would disappear underground, in their huge facility, and put an end to the war. In exchange, they would be left in peace. Had any of the parties broken the pact, they would have been annihilated. So there's been a status quo ever since.”

“Haymitch and Mags were already in contact with 13 when they approached us with the idea of the Revolution,” Gloss added. “So, we feed the Victors outside of the Capitol information about the Capitol- the buildings, the people, the plans we can stick our noses into. In turn, Coin uses that information to our advantage to feed the war.”

Katniss nodded quietly, the pieces falling into place. Finnick tapped his wrist.

“Time, people,” he said. “Remember, we can't all stay here for too long.”

“I want to speak to Haymitch,” Katniss declared.

Cashmere smiled, rising from her seat.

“Of course you do,” she answered. “Peeta, would you stay with her? We should get going.”

Peeta nodded silently and the other Victors filed out, Enobaria gently touching her shoulder as she went. Katniss appreciated the quiet support, but she waited until the door closed before turning to him.

He was even more stunning in the light of day, when the high windows reflected their outdoor light on him.

“So,” he asked quietly. “Ready to join the Revolution?”

She nodded, throat tight, and his eyes darkened slightly.

“I'm really sorry, Katniss. For...for Gale.”

She flinched at the name, but shook her head.

“You didn't kill him, Peeta. You're not responsible for...whatever happened to him.” She sighed. “But still, thank you.”

He pursed his lips. Katniss suddenly remembered that when they'd returned from the arena, she had dismissed him, preferring to spend her time with Gale, as though the Games had never happened. Gale spent a good amount of time in Victory Village- and Peeta had been there when Katniss had interfered with Gale's whipping, going as far as to stand with her. However, she knew that pretending to have feelings for him before skipping back to Gale wouldn't have sat well with her co-Victor- he certainly viewed Gale as a rival.

 _Manners maketh man_ , she thought, touched at the idea of Peeta sincerely offering his sympathies despite having had good reason to be jealous of his rival. But once again, that was Peeta in a nutshell- he reminded her of Prim and Rue, in the sense that he was too good for this world.

Haymitch had told her that she could live a hundred lifetimes and still not deserve him, and Haymitch was _right_. Not that she was in love with Peeta- but even she realized that her fondness for him went further than the usual feelings one held for one's friends. Refusing to develop that thought- now was not the time- she shook her head, trying to clear it.

“So,” she added, noticing that the silence between them was beginning to stretch uncomfortably, “any other little secrets you've been keeping from me? Best tell me now, lest Haymitch nail me to the nearest door for not being informed.”

Peeta chuckled at that.

“Haymitch may come across as sarcastic at best,” he replied, “but he'd never harm you, Katniss.”

“You didn't answer my question.”

“Clever girl,” he said, leaning back into his chair with a sly grin.

“Ew. Get that expression off your face, Peeta Mellark- you look like Finnick.”

“Finally, a compliment!” he mock-cheered, pumping his fist in the air.

“This bromance thing you have with Finnick is really weird, you know that?”

“Everyone has a bromance with Finnick,” Peeta tutted, before thinking it over. “Well, maybe not Annie, because _that_ would be weird.”

Katniss rolled her eyes. It seemed so strange to be sitting here after four years of ignoring him, joking with him as though they'd only parted ways a few days ago- and yet, it felt natural. When Peeta forgave, he did so totally- she wished she had the same ability to wipe the slate clean when she'd been wronged, but she didn't. Although maybe that was for the best- Peeta may be the type of person to gently release the wasp that had just stung him, but she would absolutely slam-dunk the bitch to the floor before feeding the remains to Buttercup. And in this case, the wasp had a name- Corolianus Snow.

Shaking her head again, Katniss focused on the matters at hand.

“Have you ever met this Alma Coin?”

“Can't say I have,” Peeta replied, drumming his fingernails against the table. “I've met many of the other Victors during the Games, though, while tutoring my tributes. Mags, notably- she's a wonderful lady, by the way- I think you'd like her.” He frowned. “Coin doesn't leave 13. None of them do.”

“I see. So, letting the other districts go through the Hunger Games for years and only interfering when it suits her, letting thousands die of starvation and beatings just so that she could advance her own agenda...is that the kind of woman this Coin is?”

Peeta's eyes widened.

“You're speaking of the leader of the Revolution, Katniss,” he reminded her, voice low.

“A leader who jumped in to assume the parentage of a movement she never inspired,” Katniss scoffed. “Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't have wanted to be at the head of that movement even if I'd stuck around, but...this just screams opportunism, wouldn't you say?”

Peeta frowned at her.

“She's the best person for the job,” he answered. “I've never met her, that's true- but I've heard about her. She's very talented. She's a great military commander. She's inspiring. She rules with an iron fist but she isn't unnecessarily cruel. Besides, the fact that she's the head of 13 means that Snow can't get his hands on the top dogs of our Revolution, which is essential. Who else would you have lead us? Haymitch? C'mon, Katniss.”

Katniss pursed her lips and sighed.

“Fine,” she snapped, raising her hands to the air in the universal sign for peace. “I guess you're right. I don't know her- and she's apparently done an okay job so far- I have no right to judge.”

There was a short silence, then Peeta nodded.

“Okay,” he declared. “Let's call Haymitch.”

He stood and made his way to the holophone sitting on a bookshelf, announcing their mentor's name aloud, and Katniss waited impatiently as the phone rang.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I would like to thank you all for your very kind words in regards to my operation, which went beautifully. I'm blessed to have had such a great medical team. I'll be returning to the hospital tomorrow for a few days, but it's all good.  
> Hope you liked the chapter!


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